A race against the dust and the soaking fabric.
Sprinting into a storm of scattered perfect spheres.
Split the grain and burn the cells to make the cut.
Tell the ones responsible to blame it on the weather.
Water the plants as they dissolve to ethane.
Crumpled mangled heap of old dried up Ohio.

Memories of pie that turned to rage
Pie rage tastes so delicious in the spring.
Jars can contain little love but lots of herbs
The right elephant will find the carousel
When the day of dust comes rabbits see.
The shrews and field mice will finally breathe.

Love amongst rodents will never evaporate
The sky can’t contain the weight of solitude
The sky is much lonelier than the sun
Tell the post office about the new light
They can spread the word to the right people

That is if you tell the right man.