Handsome Family Winnebago Skeletons
There's a fish in my stomach a thousand years old.
Can't swim a full circle, the water's too cold.
Burnt out cars in my fingers, conveyor belts flow, right
angles and steam whistles, nothing can grow.
A big-antlered deer stepping into the road, a beautiful
woman with her head in the stove.
The skyscrapers crumble heavy with rats. The wind's full
of beer cans and whiffle ball bats.
This fish in my stomach wears a full length mink, but his
teeth float in sherry in a jar by the sink.
He's the withered remains of Rin Tin Tin taking his new
Cadillac out for a spin.
The endless sea of traffic lights never make a sound like
Ben Franklin's electric kite crashing to the ground and
the Winnebago skeletons beneath this bankrupt town.
