You Can Make a Living at This

These crowds reveal my size Mesmerized by the mosh pits lulling gravity Strobe lights from a headlamp dipping beneath crestfallen eyes Gritting their teeth like it's going out of style These crowds reveal my size Cocaine on the lips of a couple kissing Through wasted wartime whimpers In bondage like a Bible or a baritone leather clad Bumping benzos with tightrope walkers Off bumper cars and bark The basements cold and you could make a living at this If you can make a living at this Then I could play the clown The paint on my face will leave a portrait in the washcloth Aside from that and the cement there's little left of our love If you can make a living at this Dancing in wedding gowns Muriel here's a nickel for your autograph Your name is easier to read then to try and say aloud If you can make a living at this Dragging the heft of an ivory crown Across ivy and all through downtown Follow bike lanes until the beastmaster leads in the hounds Sirens blared, buried by magnificent winds and hail The crowd diverged and split from the stands Which the band ran underneath When silence declared A flurry of incandescent hymns and prayers A sound emerged and drifted, saccharine, disbanded through the seats