LET'S stop by, just take off the tired helmet, and
Put a weary suitcase, year and year in the age line,

Then we stand up at the height of the tower,
"That," I said, "a ***** cloud, will there's a mud rain,"
you shook your head and stared on the motor lock.

"Chevolution, chevolution," I heard

Like that word you hissed over and over again.

You reach for the handlebars of the motorbike,
slamming in the direction.

Which far refuse comfortable cage and shady wells.

I plucked a banyan branch, for a pointer to
read again, a Book that we can never finish ...

The air is lagging after you step on the gas,
Drove in the far direction, I knew it was perfume,

A man who leaves no trace, except
Spilled coffee on the tablecloth, and dried cauliflower.