burnt out but beaming

i am tired.
the pink elephant has been snoring
past its bedtime,
and the trees smell like honey.

 

the dew is on the grass,
the dew is in the grass,
the grass is dewy and
muffles the smell of
the trees which smell of honey

 

and taste like the ash of
rainbows.

 

but the sky is on the radio
complaining about the arabs
and the television is breaking
into a thousand million pieces
and the colours are all bent
into a trillion little eyes
which greet the smoke of yesterday
with little "goody-byes"

_

_
so i smirked a bit at the reindeer
parachuting from the sky,
and id
was watching sports
in a satin bra

 

the geckos were smiling.
the geckos were smiling.