I can sit and twirl my hair until
My fingers are caught and tangled
In there like a dolphin in a net or a
Little bead of sweat stuck in a pore
- though I don't
Think many beads of sweat would
Make an attractive necklace - I can
Smear my fears on the mirror in here
But I can't get rid of the fact that
I'm unable to find the hidden track
That a black cat means a heart attack
And a scratched back leans towards
A knack of lacking a gift for words in
The pitch black, hatchback, backseat
tours