we begged for dirty, we begged for dry

while the sleeping doorman bloomed,
we consecrated the restroom.

we used to have these outlaw parts.
we used to be a vagrant heart.

we used to be rowdy at the heel.
we skippers of stones, we are what we feel.

and then out of the temples came the oracles few.
and behind them came the rest of you.

a herd of clenched knuckles rest,
in the pockets of a winter vest.

but we saunter on, gypsies on the grift.
with our fists of corona, our western smiths.

we were children of rye
we were too big to lie.

we were doused in the amber water.
our city a shadow of the house of our father.

in fountains, we bathed with a city bird.
we counted each day on the need that we heard.

in the promised alleys our palms were pried open;
our psalms spread open like some desperate token.

never came the alms or candles lit.
never came the madman's fit.

we were the lost boys of worthless cred.
we were the daughters of the unborn dead.

when the department reached a consented fee,
your crowds came with the decree.

one whole day was spent on wine.
with our last dollars we squandered time.

on the last day we fed ourselves to gin.
our donut eyes fixed on sin.

we begged for dirty, we begged for dry.
we begged for wicked, we begged for why.

we sweated juniper, we wasted airs.
we burned the bank down, we climbed the stairs.

and before they wrote the memorandum,
the night was over, the day of random.

before we muttered muffled requiems to our coats,
before we kissed the seals of all we had wrote.

we fed our olives to the floor.
we backed our people out the door.