I can see galaxies – all the tragedies and earthly falsities. I’m like the piper calling his rats to the streets. Hiding indecision, hiding everything. I know I’ve found the time, whistling in the moonlight. 

Mother, oh Mother, can the children come out and play? I taste the lipstick on my pillow and on my teeth.

I am that striptease.

Your body’s a roadmap, lined with cracks. Slide your finger across to discover all its flaws. What makes you tick, honey?  Lay it on thick, honey. Let your feet touch the floor. Tap, tap, I want you more. I swear I’ve seen this shine, glistening in the sunlight. Lipstick on this flute of mine.

Playing each note one octave a little bit higher. With my eyes on the her/eyes/on.

The cure is in the words on the tip of my tongue unfurled.