“Don`t let it get to you …
Do not get so upset …”
I was unable to follow that advice
It always did, get to me …
Got to me …
Dying got to me
And living got to me
Living a lie got to me the most
Flogged dead horses …
Naive, foolish …
eventually even a rubber chicken break it`s neck
My get up and go … fucked off … and went (as Bam’Bam use to say)
Sometimes one may smell past `aromas
when the trees allow me to pass under them
My mind gets full of these questions …
WHat happened to Her?
Did her spirit also croak?
DId She also sell out?
Did a Man break her,
Or did life just crawl out of the drain and bite her in the ass?
(My Fantasy for many years)
Driving past Zoolake
I had visions
Of ‘us ‘on one of those stupid little rowboats
I kept hoping (“maybe someday”)
I prayed to Cheebpers … maybe He d grant it? … And send her back to me
What was I going to say, if I ever got her into that thing?
Possible would have made a mess of it.
She Went to France
With those legs,
And a strawberry tattoe