Now we sever this.
Our hours slept through the hottest part.
So we came down off the lift, people barely even speak in this deep of sand, and now we have pictures of it all, so come off, sit around, be gentle with the people who cough and crouch.
If the man can sell doughnuts let him, he is a dance we all knew and a triangle ringing off somewhere.
Even notes stuck in a cornet, a man can be bent in stick formation, like maybe I knew him.
I can still forget it: more vegatables, distilled water, the wet sand, crumbs, brown, two beds made one, the word for "to hug."
Shit can be found anywhere, the city has traces of it down blocks and near churches.
I might of shit there once, but I was never looking.