I do my best to sleep through the caterwaul The classicist, the posture in avant-garde I bought a gray macaw, named him Jules Verne He'll probably outlive me - he's a bright bird Keeps me company, I teach him new words
I saw a hologram at the theme park She looked as real as me through the white fog Then she melted down to her ankles Turned into a million-watt candle If I knew where she went, I would follow
Walking through the land of tomorrow Martian trinkets, plastic Apollos In the sunshine, try to act normal My veins are full of flat cherry cola Slept on the bench by her rollercoaster
Dreamt I was riding on a motorbike Lion of Judah, painted on the side
I'm doing fine, I'm back in the Palisades Life's a wash, a pastoral school play China shops and cold ivory towers I and I make toast to the Caesars Forcing down the dregs of Decembers
Madeleine she spins in a slow pain All through the house, the strong smell of burnt sage Let's make it clean and run out the spirits I know a diving bell when I hear it
We're going down now under the surface Light to dark can shift in an instant Feeling close but keeping my distance On all fours she's just so insistent Fills my mind with jump ropes and slit wrists
Bust through the firewall into Heaven And then I'm standing in that blinding light Crooked crosses falling from the sky