coffeewhiskey

were you fired rare with freckles
does the sand still burn your feet
when you prance about like a devil
and plummet them straight down
down
into an ocean of debris
and is it still clean,
when you wash yourself in it
are you bored or lonely
are you just horny
am I a scarecrow or a tin man
your arrows aren't poison
but you're someone I want to keep
I want to see you in my sweatshirt
in my backyard smoking under palm trees
I want to throw you down harvesting wells
and see what sprouts from beneath
I'm still not sure what to believe
your neck is so soft
you wear that scarf too much
I'm sure I've said too much
and you know one of us
is
telling
a
lie.