Cenno

Arrival in the midday heat,
Horse and rider equally
jostling in the seat crack,
Swing door open: let the fun begin!

Spit in' spittoon with plonk!
Counter shadows sway drunkenly,
(Piano tinkling honky-tonk)
sunk into soliloquies.

On the stage: penance and atonement?
Good grief: dancing melons!
show off their cactus blossom,
Nylon stocking with blue beans.

In the damp confines of the restroom
there is a bustling crowd,
a quick wank in the compartment,
supported by Booze and Spank

Pants in the knees throats,
you start to wobble in a dissolute way:
"Shit!" curses the poor soul out loud,
unstable the thin planks.

Fourth wall shatters, pales
Body falls into glaring land,
Physique topples, softened by liquor,
soaked in urine in hot sand.

After two days soaked,
the hero makes himself - not at all wise,
his stomach weak and hollow,
on the fragrant onward journey.

In the distant land of Aralia,
in the form of cult rituals
and carnivorous tales
of long-gone, bright days

tells Hedera's song.
Overgrown tonsil stones
form where Hedren passed away,
the place for all her bones:

at the cemetery on the cliffs.
Rough thyme sea salt lips

Crust sounded to the last course:
in synthetic green glow,
Saint Elmo's firelight song.

In the final drydown - after eons
only passed with the wind -
the breath of beasts and ozones
Hedera's last testimonies are.