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Barely breathin

Through the incense

That’s hidin

The cigarettes

And the mysteries

of the Orient

Are just histories

Wrapped and bent

Dropping into ashtrays

Just behind the whiskey glass

Rouding days

Up with tallies made of grass

You’re dirt

My dirty cheap perfume

And you hurt

With your strange silver smile in the gloom

Can’t dispel

That memory

The smell

Is too deep in my skin and my hair

Now there’s nothing left to do

But sit in the rain

With a head full of you

This much is plain

Drink in the dew

Till the morning unfolds

Like the pictures you drew

Still that perfume holds

Till I drown just to wash off

Must become a river

With a life like a moth

Dusty waters deliver

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