made a machine by describing the landscape a child made out of a song about money our s** became a boxer who moved in next door retired a separate man we thought we knew joked about him feared a little bit nodded hello admired from a distance
like when leon spinx moevd into town my leg falls asleep and becomes a telephone call whispered on the black stairs the cord disappears behind the kitchen door breathing in the pauses seeing how long we can go without saying anything