I’ve got a feeling
in the bottom of my trumpet
a guttural primal scream
I echo skyscraper dreams
there’s no problem for this solution
when I climb the fragile walls
do the dogs on the inside bark?
behind their TV sets
static reality hums as noise
and cherries grow on every frame
of every building
reflecting blue-like grey metallic spark
the gravel growls as it’s crunched
and the metal boxes follow yellow line cream
the glass is growing up
constructed and polished up
roofs climb
and they’re clean
they’re so clean
