written 1999, with a June 2016 shoeshine

I bed down for the coming night
Composed from things of childhood fright
Tales from perverted Grimms, say hey!
How many seconds til the distant day
Remember how mother told you to pray
Good girl sent on her golden way.
Pirates are searching for souls like you
Tear it from a the pages and it’s a song brand new
Take cover from the care of reported mortars.
Can I call back a new order—new order!
There’s a fly in my soup, been there a day
“Well, how’s this for privacy!” he ruefully yells
My shoes are filling with tears
And my hat refuses to be worn
While a raven jots down all they mournfully tell
Ready to fire, ready to flee
All my defenses remain a mystery
For it I survive or die there’s no reason for rhyme
Is there an answer if there’s no question
Too heavy for me, the waiter brings orange tea
The bottle says “drink me”
The bottle inspires me
“Drink me” it says, think I’ll give it a try
Fly, fly—