- I imagine the rapture of crows
[size=50]…[/size]in a dark barn:
[size=50]…[/size]backs low,
[size=50]…[/size]heads bobbing,
[size=50]…[/size]and beaks like daggers
[size=50]…[/size]slashing the air
[size=50]…[/size]with rhythmic fury.
- I drive the streets at night
[size=50]…[/size]and find them still
[size=50]…[/size]-young, shaggy, and slumped,
[size=50]…[/size]but as bold as ever.
3.I want love,
[size=50]…[/size]real love,
[size=50]…[/size]the kind I can’t return;
[size=50]…[/size]I want silk and Vaseline
[size=50]…[/size]and the fierce joy of talking to you,
[size=50]…[/size]but in another language;
[size=50]…[/size]I want what I want:
[size=50]…[/size]where, when, who, and how;
[size=50]…[/size]I want love,
[size=50]…[/size]real love;
[size=50]…[/size]we’ll know it when it hurts.
4.Drunk on a farm in Iowa,
[size=50]…[/size]in broad daylight,
[size=50]…[/size]with a joint in one hand,
[size=50]…[/size]and a tape in the other.’
[size=50]…[/size]The volume is set:
[size=50]…[/size]full thrust.
[size=50]…[/size]And when I insert the tape
[size=50]…[/size]and touch the button,
[size=50]…[/size]crows begin to scatter.