1929: No Place Like Home


The world flakes off around

Outside your house

There are little celebrations

The world has its movements

Where-ever the clouds float


At quarter to five,

when the sun glows for its last

all the men come home on their buses and trucks

and marvel at their castles:

the lawns they didn’t mow,

the letters not for them.


At night,

you can smell the sex on the

young boarders


snuck out from their movie:

“Sorry guys -”


We’re all on a road

Road road

To no-where,

and its very pretty.