And I will no longer smoke my hubbly-bubbly solitarily, as Special Agent Francis knows,
And the sea goddesses don't know,
And he eructates on the verandah, as disposable as his roast beef toes,
Before he's dislocated, like one of his talking animals,
I snogged him in the gazebo.
And we snogged wearing pajanimals--,
And if I wasn't indispensable, as much gum cancer as you can handle.
And I will no longer smoke my hubbly-bubbly solitarily, if you can believe it,
Nor without the yellow blackbird,
Neither wear your cap crookedly unless you see fit.
Special Agent Francis hears our fates clearly in our coffee grounds.
He's heard the opiated herd
Has become Trieste's hellhounds,
Unlimited & undistinguishable--, grant him peace to hear his gladly solemn sounds.
And I will no longer smoke my hubbly-bubbly solitarily, or without nutella banana crepes,
And Special Agent Francis:
He was a silent lover I stole silently from Miss Lousera Comasquerapes.
Dirty mermaids from the Black Sea, like poop droppings from a Hoopoe,
Silent my agent prances,
Like sirens don't know,
Today if not only yesterday Francis promises at deepest a furlough.
And I will no longer smoke my hubbly-bubbly solitarily, pray for war.
His elephant, my mosquito--,
His male elephant seal washing up dead on the shore, my prayer for nothing more--,
I have a dream of outfitting my whole family in white cotton.
Still I can't forgive his veto.
I don't regret his wet body rotten,
Rotting moistly, mostly unforgiven, choicely on the verandah & unforgotten.
And I will no longer smoke my hubbly-bubbly solitarily, rustically but alone but for the trepan
And the filthy sea goddesses.
Elle Mary has the bladder of an eighty-year-old man,
And I suspect already that we'll smoke this last one till the choking fine:
Mutated mammal kisses,
And with mammals drink lilac wine,
Like Special Agent Francis suspects the divine, & I'm still here as a dry Hoopoe unripe on the vine.
July 28, 2009
Composed at the oriental cafe in Bucharest, July 2009