It was a small bit of freedom Stolen under the dark desert sky It was counted out Not by minutes or hours But kernel by kernel Of delicious forbidden fruit Eaten slowly Like a lover Savoring every sweet drop Nothing else existed For the moment But the wide open night And sweet rough skinned fruit Torn open bit by bit Slowly anticipating every ruby orb That would burst itβs sweet juice In wet pleasure The nights were hot and dry The smell of dust Still hanging like a veil And it was it all was about the dust That freedom giving dust Not from the dry desert But the dust left on the window sill Tended in soft careful piles Next to the bars To be carefully packed back into place So they could lie Lie about the night Lie about the fruit And the forbidden trysts Under the outstretched arms Of the small twisted tree But the rough red peels Left carelessly strewn about By small unwitting fingers Eventually told the truth That the bars wouldnβt And they started counting the fruits Every day and every morning The bounty now left untouched But the night was still there With stars close enough to hold in your hand The hot desert breeze gently breathing And every moment Free
Yeah, I was a bad kid. I was locked up when I was 9. What really amazed me was I was the only one who broke out of the place. I would be out there every night, totally alone and free.I not only had the bars on the window rigged so I could remove them, but had also gotten into the attic and by-passed the alarm on the door. I was like a vampire roaming the place at night ******* cans of peaches dry and robbing the cream out of the milk jug.