The clouds, like rain today.
I drain myself clear
in the yard, let fog disappear
in a roll not unlike
a meat tube.
My meal gone too,
I’m called, again and again,
to what nearly tastes
like gravy coming down.
The clouds, like rain today.
I drain myself clear
in the yard, let fog disappear
in a roll not unlike
a meat tube.
My meal gone too,
I’m called, again and again,
to what nearly tastes
like gravy coming down.