Still bloated from deep sleep,
Pick up a hasty run,
Across a painted rainbow-
Leading to my sun.

Liquidated odors, flush my every pipe.
The heat lies heavy on the soul,
And breath becomes a fight.
The sounds of a rumbled horns and shouts,
Fume careless in the sphere,
And I a causal street walker am floating in this air...


Revitalizing juice-
Is squeezing down my throat
And in this moistly ooze
My skin begins to gloat

Sonic phones in ears
And 'Forking Paths' in hand
Flip flopping down the avenue
My clinging cloth
It fans

My bag is full of goods-
Water,
Bits of sand
Smoking sticks
And coins
Supply every demand

I pick a spot amid the crowd
And let my cloth rest cloud
Yet as my body curves to sand
I wake in winters shroud