Sweating it out in my room. Barefoot and unbottoned [sic]
to the waist. The street car runs all night and I can't
wait. So meet me down behind the abattoir with the last
of the summer kings. Meet me down at the lake. I said,
"these waves come in from California." You said, "these
waves are all brand new," and "summer is easy living in
the city downtown." Thieves in the city. Bees in the
flowerbeds. Kissing downtown and then the sun come up. In
your summer dress you said, "a culture with shaking
breath, I want it now!" Well in my mouth the sun will
sound when that evening sun go down. Down to the lake,
past the windmill like a fireball through your broken
window. Down to the lake with shaking breath and the
bloody owls at the end of summer racket. You said,
"tonight we can't be held by fences or by chains." Down
at the lake with a bad moon shining in the waves.
