You and I

You and I will live

like tourist

in our neighborhood

and sail the moon each night

across our bed.

We will have the hills

at breakfast

fresh from the sun’s bright oven

for our bread.

We will be poor

but very rich

and let the living free

and pity the living dead.

Do you see that tree

it is a big green glass

the year breaks gradually

winter sweeps the pieces.

Do you see that picket fence

a row of white piano keys.

Do you hear the sun lights dance

the store-fronts are paintings

and the streets are galleries.

We will be two flowers in the air

without a stem

a copper gong in space

struck by a laughing mandarin.

And we won’t work

and we won’t bitch

and we won’t join

the common war

We will stroll around instead.

We will be poor

but very rich

and let the living free

and pity the living dead.

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