lucid in America,
     lazy, loose,
ladies of marble, hearts of stone,
the clouds are gathering,
     the trees sparse,
     coarse winds cool, collide,
realign the telephone lines,
smoke exits the nostrils in good time,
     three-piece suits,
     hard handshakes,
     heydays and hollidays both end in headaches,
lucid, loose, tight as a feather,
     riding the Times and drinking  empty cups,
     full and flavored, gentle, gentle,
     the melody is quaint,
     but the melody will play,
sing easy, kissing the graves,
the skeletons are lonely, ask them to stay,
brief and brittle, the remnants of the middle,
quake and make me realize the end has and always
will be nigh,
    egotripping brothers and daughters at pearly gates,
    walking crates half in dismay, half soaked in rays,
interlaced, tracing barefoot on interstates,
humming with the meadowlarks, humming at the dark,
sometimes we're art,
mostly we're stark,
      dancing and dying at once,
      trival yet trying, the beauty we're still buying,
      lucid, free, and easy,
knowingly drifting the pains, the plains
      of America.