Past the incredible rock
where the picnic went wrong
the trees were half-red,
with reluctance.
A line of bright machines
is silent in the sky.
Have you ever felt
that the answers to all your questions
lie somewhere UP THERE?
Now turn your attentions
to the dreamer moving
through the snowdrifts.
I pick a flower for you every day
and keep it with my ammunition.
I fear that I am becoming an insane pervert.
Can you predict what kind
of balding fat man
I'll be? Your eyes are so treacherous
I'm going to bury them.

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