She smelled like a thunderstorm
When I met her
Down in the tenderloin
Sipping tea
Vicodin pills, some scotch
And a sweater
Soon I was feeling
Back on my feet
She lived in a little shack
By the water
The sound of the ships
Would lull us to sleep
couple of sloths the world
Had forgotten
With nothing but youth
& faraway dreams
After the saints fly home
Solomon resting in his tomb
Paperbacks on a train
Sugarcane fields
All wet with rain
Hurricane lanterns glow
After the rain the boats are slow
I’d rather be left behind
Nothing’s as pure as an empty mind