Sometimes you need to think about the end that seems to fall upon us like a sesame street rerun.
She, moves and collapses like lungs. In a car that couldn’t explode
She lays down she sits up; she grabs her jacket to smoke.
Her lungs in and out, my lungs in and out fall asleep
If she would fall herself like a star down upon me
And perhaps hiss me I could find all the strength without the roundabout, a place where large magazines move freely with all the pictures of women and music
She, my eyes they turn me