Midmorning, raining -
She's looking for them in her safe haven of lies,
Forlorn prayers who failed to reach God,
Where are they now, no room for them in pantries,
Cupboards, shelves, books came first of course -
So where the hell have they been hiding?
Children with stars on their sleeves,
Castaways, dead, they all waiting:
Is there enough room for unheard prayers?
Ok. You might call them back,
Even address them by name,
Midmorning swarms with comets, angels,
Days of birth and decay, one of them might give advice -
Soon they'll dismiss her and she'll go into rehab,
So forget if gods stay silent,
No cold feet if ladies walk through you -
By the by, why are their shoes red hot? -
Look, she's wheezing among words,
C'mon, soul, tie her up lest she mistake stars with shadows,
Yes, the young scared light throwing herself at seasons
When no guides no sextants light up an all-inclusive blue -
Alarms, Black Marias, mislaid baubles -
But you gently stroke your streets and towns,
Forgo the moon if gossips say "Too cold",
But red-haired girls in short summer frocks
Dream of life's many gifts,
Among them light in the killer's eyes,
The great chiseller, loss who made souls askew,
Oh well, you don't have a spare soul, do you?
Nor good Samaritans bend to pick it up
For their collection of suburban fallen souls.