 |
| March 9, 1981 |
| take flight |
I saw white smoke flow from his nostrils rise curl gently over his head white dust innocent frosting sit on the table-top clear fluid in a clear bottle gleam uncapped from a prominent ledge his eyes fix on white flesh sex-no-matter slip past his window. he nodded to sounds of Bird flying high your problem, he said is White music on the brain |