Originally Posted by Lima_dat
Body Language
In the corner where four lots meet
There are two different fences
And two different trees
Beneath the Arizona Ash
Hangs a human being
Suspended in the air
In a white cotton chair
It’s woven xanax among the
Leaves that have vanished
In-between the cold grey trees
There’s a low metal fence
Which the wind blows through
But, parallel and perpendicular
Stands another one, taller
Built from wood to hide you
Then there in that old fig tree
A little song-bird twitches his wings
He’s switching to a higher branch
To see what I can’t see
That everything is peachy keen
From the twig above the fence
And so he sings and sings
Until my worrying begins
And I stop listening.
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