and the drinks are piling up like towers on the tabled surface of earthen platforms
while the brink of life is edging after those who are vociferous in the mountain day
well so what, barely anybody sees me, I am replete with paltry wisdom and some cigarette
smoked meanings that flew from the air in the form of flames...
and decayed aircraft train their shattered lenses to stare at me
because i've drank the waters of the Lethe and instead the Lethe
forgot me,
and the mountain's are fair
and so is your hair when it wavers
above a molar shaped boulder
that we held onto with our fingertips
and embracing arms tamed by the sun
see those aircraft take off with my best friend in the cockpit,
crooked wallet in dangerous hand held to shade the light in his eyes.
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