"A Fleeces Feces"
Bells palsied in a dream.
I don't know what happened to me.
My face was distorted.
Space was contorted.
I couldn't see correctly.
I tried to visualize a field with a head of cows grazing on grass.
But it seems all I am is a big pain in my ass named Mister Tush.
I haven't got a lot of pull, but plenty of push.
I'll make love to you behind the strawberry bush.
It's warm behind this suit and mask.
Blueberry skies and starlit skies.
All of life's highs.
A man sits down and cries.
He goes and dies then he flies.
Through my eyes' disguise.
Next door the cooks are making chicken pies.
The dogs are chewing on the bovines' bow ties.
The gamblers are losing all the house's hundreds, fifties, tens, and fives.
Making plenty of tries and telling their wives white lies.
Their alibis in a soft song's lullabies.
By Jonathan Billet
10.19.2014
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