The big odd is out on his back again.
Like a sea tossed turtle, putting in time
In the wet grass of a Carolina after-rain.
Bathing in his monkey shine.
Oh what I couldn't give.
To slip him the tongue.
And show little daddy how things get done.
Around here.
Ohhh...
In a sacrosanet sweet dream state.
No demon imagined could marr.
And no woman of spite could come punish.
And no man in his cruel cups could jar.
In a pact of his own understanding.
He made long ago drinking with God.
Him I love, way down south, there for better.
All smokey and simmering and odd.
Hey, but if I thought I could champion some feeling.
Maybe orchestrate my way of thinking.
He could live like a charm in my movie.
In the story I think I wanna believe in.
Once his fine fleshy face filled my pillow.
As I witnessed his sleeping lipped smirk.
Belying the cool measured movements.
Of a crocodile hungry at work.
Now he swims thru the seasoned sweet marrow.
In this free ranging bayou of bone.
Where the fish flash a flipper and glimmer.
And whisper he's gone baby gone.
But not for long cause.
I think he knows.
Somehow I think that he knows.
This old blue heart is something like a home.
Oh... the big odd..the big odd and hoe... :)