the birds are chirping,
chipping away at sleep;
only got a few hours in
before the doublespeak.
forgot to close the windows
and the blinds and the reach,
and this paint-by-number
speakeasy too easy to speak.
i keep hearing
wait and see,
i keep trying to
drink tea,
but i still can’t dance;
you still can’t sing.
can you see this flag i’m waving?
girl unfurled down at your feet?
you lick at my occasion,
at my naked symmetry.
my piano is a garden but
i’m not growing a damn thing.
lunachik 