And he drove me around

Down the oily highroads

Passed garden furniture and

Church

Gave me his revolver beneath his belt

He was a chauffer

Kind,

Although asked things in return

I raised my fists towards him

Looking at his woody arms

And woody ankles

So I look away

Speed up

Bars gave me strong hallucinations

So I look away

Holding that picture of greasy sausages

And embarrassing grim

But he could as easily pull a carnation out of his sleeve

I raised my fists towards him

But hearing the sound of his engine comforts me, foams me

His frosty voice

As much as the joyful dip in his chest hair, chest pain, a deep

Zoo, a full bloom