Pail Of Air - Passage

Creeping charlies don’t need too much light

sorry, wrong number, apology accepted.

i see no cloud ring wind wave,

simply something wicked whipping once around the moon…

what do you want?

the bed is made,

give me the cigarette money or a pail full of air…

i spit up string in granny knots,

my foot’s asleep or else i’d walk

am i having sex or huffing gas?

my mind’s asleep or else i wouldn’t ask.