Let’s divide the sky, you and I,
With Wilco tapping our gut, our eyes,
Supplanting the clouds from our grape cigars;
We’ve been folded, too creased to remember
Those country nights, those starry remnants when I would

Always point east with a fettered finger.
If I held it long enough, just enough,
Horns would bud, deviling my digit,
And the fireplace froze over.
I destroy homes and fall, fall, fall with them.

I play the bench observer,
Cigarette **** to people with permanent smiles.
‘Relax,’ you said ‘you need to relax,’
But your lips chapped and bleeding--
They resemble mine in humid daylight,

And the sky moistens and melts
To the tantalizing tune, yellowed summerteeth.