Landing craft, full of movement and sound

under the just-boiled moon

 

We walk the walk and the guardian angel

will always be there.

The crazy people had a lifestyle to change

by choosing a good wash.

 

Taxi! Follow that moon!

I’m sorry my lights aren’t working.

Fear not my friend is here The Angler Fish

He lives in a hovel surrounded by woodland

 

Vote for me because this space filler

needs to be filled

 

The kettle not long after the boil

Where I would see my own reflection

In eternal ballrooms and moonlit bedrooms

listening for footsteps

 

She walks the walk, hoarding habits

squared away, her celestial companion

the dead American in the pale blue shirt.