Look at all the steam off the snow We listen to the Top 40 country radio blow Listen to the singer, trying to put my finger on who k**ed who When it does linger, the sweet nostril-stinger of the spring's mildew Was it your will to take his pill orally? Or did you act perfunctorily? The lamp-shadow dampness The safe world of campus The water of your high school eyes Some stadium Some old college tries There in my stomach the liquor heated With every place I ever trick-or-treated and We used to message through the ink of night With skin still young and pink and tight Back when the tongue thrust with all of our young lust The dimple-chin brunettes who make simpleton pets of me And yes I'm a heel, but with Peter's keel I will cut through the lily-pads The moping mothers and hillbilly dads And the billboard dentist from White Lake to East Lansing With his day-glo halo sentence entrancing The moon makes lake-water out to be a filmy skin But who can begin to tell what skin holds far within Oh the bathers Oh the toweling Your cells are saviors that ring wet bells growling and You have the black eyes Just holes filled with night skies A saddening sweetness through your kid-sister-sighs Where the Sylvan Lake corner is flickering with childhood And the mourner within me feels older than wildwood And if I knew what part of me was wax I would try to truncate it with a black sopping night axe