I was a quick, wet boy
Diving too deep for coins
All of your street light eyes
Wide on my plastic toys

Then when the cops closed the fair
I cut my long baby hair
Stole me a dog-eared map
And called for you everywhere

Have I found you, Flightless Bird
Jealous, weeping?
Or lost you, American Mouth
Big billed, looming?

Now I’m a fat house cat
Nursing my sore, blunt tongue
Watching the warm poison rats
Curl through the wide fence cracks

Kissing on magazine
Photos those fishing lures
Thrown in the cold and clean
Blood of Christ mountain stream

Have I found you?, Flightless Bird
Grounded, bleeding?
Or lost you, American Mouth
Big billed, stuck going down