she smelled like a thunderstorm
when i met her
down in the tenderloin
sipping tea
vicodin pills, some scotch
and a sweater
soon i was feeling
back on my feet
she lived in a little shack
by the water
the sound of the ships
would lull us to sleep
a couple of sloths the world
had forgotten
with nothing but youth
& faraway dreams
after the saints fly home
solomon resting in his tomb
paperbacks on a train
sugarcane fields
all wet with rain
hurricane lanterns glow
after the rain the boats are slow
i’d rather be left behind
nothing’s as pure as an empty mind
