Palm Beach is born againthis time it's Overtown
and one hundred swaths of fabric flown from Monaco
settle onto my floor
the ivy balmorals
squeek across the tarmac
and an aristocratic slap happens
*slap*
I've been slain by the day
I am churning like a child on the shore
I close my eyes to visualize base jumping
from this tower
onto a motorcycle of 1000ccs or higher
that squeels and peels and I slap a hundred drinks
from the hands of little black dresses
onto the cold ground
*slap* *slap* *slap*
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment