Queens Road.

Penelope flower lips, picturing burst clouds
in her head, Penelope exploded,
Penelope was born in a quiet room
ready to grow into a women who
would wear skirts with orchid prints
and cream reebok classics
who would disappear into her solitary room
and listen to her mothers records
and wish that she was Suzanne
who kept her nails clean, who would one day
fill her head with wilderness
and stick safety pins through feather stems
arrange them on the breast pocket of her leather jacket
and try in the floating dust to fly
blinded in the moon, dealing out her finger tips
to strangers and she's just a stranger
while surrendering to gravities severity
and what if I can never save her
what if I can never save myself
what if we're just grounded here for ever
dreaming our desires in cruel south eastern valleys,
virtue, vibrancy, what if we're the people we laughed
at when we were just kids with wallet chains
what if you're the cowgirl in the sand
what if I'm just the A13 holding
quiet towns together to the sea
what if it's just you and me?