in sepia.. - and you you just sit around & ask for ashtrays,can't you reach?
Nov. 29th, 2005
10:58 am - in sepia..
The Devil Does Not Speak He Hides In Your Photographs
hey you in the jesus sandals,the neon eyelashes...
haven't i seen you,read your name on a crowded platform
or between the eyes of a stunned bull at carnival time?
were you sitting behind the piano in that photo on my mother's mantlepiece
holding a lipstick mark with a cigarette on your cheek?
rogue. you were there in the kitchen during the tornado
and i saw you rip the throat out of a chicken the day before mother's miscarriage,
you were standing on the gravel
with a toothpick and a beergut
when we welcomed in that girl who stole all the money from the restaurant...
there's you beside mark and debbie
before they went on that hunting trip that saw her passed
and him locked
away and i thought i saw you last year in rome
beside a crowing rooster
talking to a little girl with a lizard tongue
or were you the man who came to the house after dark
and sat in the treehouse with a pocketknife
you know the one whose son was found in a bottle...
...but you look more like the girl from the florists
in whose presence the greenfly that infest the place just shrivel up
you came with us to cornwall remember,where the dogs were poisoned
and there's one of your legs sticking out behind the priest
in every wedding photo i've ever seen
you used to follow me around with a sticking plaster.