And the stars were the only ships of pleasure at night, without propellers to further their research on movement. The fish hook was the Moon glinting in the sky; American wet dreams again. Whoever prayed for a tempest without a flood? Tonight girl, I’ll show you my blood.   Soaring high above in daily leisure was government money and filthy weather.   I folded under frosty sheets with only a small delicate book of songs to remember; chasing the sleep I never dreamt.  Some say my life is measure for measure.   But life is perfect and perfection is limitless and only ever Mother and Father to bear witness.

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