SUN IN MY HAIR


I've got too much
suger in my milk, and
the cathedral is moving in
front of the clouds.

If I found a tall woman
I'd paint her blue,
but leave the ground white —
and raindrops too.

Then Venus
would come close to me
and tell me of the
mansions in heaven.

I would tell her
that when I've got the sun
in my hair
I don't need her to
come around.

Others have told me
of the squeals they have lost
to unworthy competition.

They are learning
that when it's time you
save
you can never be a
slave.

But even in the sea
you can be thirsty.