Come, drink with me! My wine is sweet and my women are tart!
That is most gracious my sire, but I mustn’t wet the mid day.
You say that you’re a king, and yet you speak like a peasant!
I’m not just a king, I’m their king. Do you understand? They own me.
Sometimes I close my eyes over a bowl of hot oatmeal and
I pretend that the warm steam over the bridge of my nose
Is the breath from your lips as you bend to kiss my brow
Over and over
All In A Day’s Work
the Dynamic Layers of Visual Separation