Gesundheit; Just looked back over the letters I never sent There were so many of them I can always start but seldom finish Not just innuendo, trust me, I wish that it were That would be a better problem to have
Grandfather ambled about, In some strokes standing as still as a Clock and waiting for me to Wind him. I didn't just then, Too rusted. Peered through the blinds, Some light spilled in, I sunk further Under the covers like Nosferatu, Dracula, accurate. Demon.
Eventually he left me to My slumber again but the Tranquility was disturbed, ****** left the lid to the coffin Wide open. Later I shifted about, Slinking around different eaves, Trying to disappear From the frames of any Francophilic voyeurs, I can never find them Though I know they're always there
Later still returning to the Origin point of that morning Finding grandmother now occupying That plot where I bury and unseal and bury again She asked if she should leave But I assured her I'd tell her Were that ever the case Though I surely wouldn't:
She's sensitive like I am, She knows all the signs from her youth abroad Her mother alternating between Stints of fox and hare in as Many rapid cycles of the phases of the moon Tareyton smoke drifting over The damp gardens of tea leaves She read for prophecies always Served to keep her steady until They walled her up in a mattress room Some of us aren't designed for this place The coveted excuse of genes, These weaknesses are inherited traits
A return call from the doctor Too distracted to find a pen