We can't have you thinking there
neck on shoulders,
with thoughts that care.
What if there is exception,
a lingering mind?
My love is concepcion?
We can't have you living there
dog of the town,
with nothing to share.
What if there is distinction
and annelida found
wiggles that defied exinction?
We can't have you sitting there
fingers on nuckles,
with hair in air.
What if dirt has direction,
and rings that dare,
where worms are perfection
and memories rare?
raster punk
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/annelida-or-so-they-said/
