Mike Doughty
"Lorna Zauberberg"

Wait for your train in my car by the station
On the wheel my hands are burning from the cold

What do you dream as you doze against the window
And will you tell the dream when you come home

Virility (?) is in the house of lesser then (?)
And in breakfast we get by on charm alone

The sun beats down on immaculate beige carpets
And the plank of spoons bounce off the off-white walls

I flipped through the music that you left
All the old cassettes that lean against the wall

I ate all the peaches off the shelf
And I rearranged the cans into a poem

Vicious mobs of candy-ravers stalk the night
And Methadonians sleep right where they stand

A weeping tranny is craddling a steak knife
And you're happ'ly slugging Rob Roys with your man

I fold all the sweaters in the drawer
And I smelled your smell and I held one to my nose

Lay awake to the drizzle on window as the swan neck of the fan sweeps back and forth