Lass

the dandelions are shuffling themselves inside
each others face today, as I’m trying to stay clean

doesn’t matter much, i love my girl and she’s moving my head about,
and there aint no reason for this poem apart from being it

got a little space, got just a little bit. I’m 30. I Can pull off whatever,
whatever this lady says, and everyone looks at me like a crazy
nut

and everything i know about poetry and the small time i have to
say anything, goes like this

ha, it’s all bad poetry! it’s all a big smile on the lips of some
big cats, no cats i know, some cats she’ll show me

but hey, i pay my living by doing some crazy things, i write it low
so that all the rats and all the animals can dance, and then

hey you know you’re moved a little, by nothing you can describe, and
when all the bad cars shine.

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