And what is fancy
He dreams of a fence
What to do with the old wood?
Music is so beautiful
And free to be heard
He only likes it in its infancy
Are others' desires so alike?
Little hands that resemble gummy worms
And other yummy things
We want our own
Does the blank stare come with the package?
Assimilating nicely
And never before so conflicted
He paints a picture
Is once a year too little too late?
Buoyant and bubbly
And equally opinionated
She feels the clock in her belly
How come there is so much to do?
There is an empty dust in the sky
And it covers us in a stupor
We don't even know it
But wouldn't it be nice if we did?
A foreign legion pays no attention
And the babies grow up fine
He tries to formulate reasons
Don't plenty of them die tragically, too?
Brilliant colors
And a robust feeling
They have a touch of ignorance
Doesn't everyone want a digital feed?
Pleasure is a festival
And we are all invited
He wonders if anyone will get out of hand
Don't you think that's awfully beta-male?
After learning enough to carry on
And dig a sacred hole
They think they are ready
What kind of life to share?
A billion bubbles planted in the soil
And billions more to come
They pick a color for a fence
Were we meant to be here?
--
5.12.08
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