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