Kerri Shying R # 519 - sensitive to all they wail lashing for control

a  weekend trip   with the pancake people

the  hole  in the heart      lake-top skimmers 

come dusk    my Muscat      rolls around

the glass   warm spice   ready for the night

who   whined   about  mosquitos  and surf sounds

 sensitive to all     they wail   lashing for control

of everything    that walks  that grows    that  stands  

under heaven  I slink like a wet dog    to the    garage

a  smoking    pariah   ready to blow it    up the tailpipe

 of the 4wd  if the roller door comes open    on the walk

back up the path   oh my god those stars