standard tunes on the radio
the gramophones are outdated
so dust off your duvet covers
and dance naked for the daily
words are kept frozen in ice cube trays
spray my hands with cinnamon and honey
your rose water sprinkles my nose
and i feel a hundred years
younger than that old toad
sweep out the dining rooms
and follow the relics of the mind
in my time of loving
i will find a way to say i’m sorry
you combine memory with meaning
like stethoscopes trying to cope
with our swollen diameters
growing up is all about coming to terms
with our petty personalities and demeanor
nootropes in the new tropics
some are similar to the old radishes
codes and secret handshakes
shape the lakeside attractions
of parks and fairgrounds
as the storm rages beneath our stereos