By Lindsay Haslem
Hey, Baby, come kiss my fingertips here under a hailstorm,
like you did before your town got fire-bombed.
Please, Baby, tell me why that pond is all frozen over-
it's a warm day and these sad seagulls don't make no sense.
Listen, Baby, I think we should buy that black house
down by the railroad tracks because it has a dandelion patch.
I think, Baby, we ought to get a piebald puppy,
name him Lenin and only feed him VHS tapes.
Hold on, Baby, don't you watch those big beaks tear apart
the neighbor's scrawny children, they don't know no better.
Oh, Baby, it smells like piss and unsettled dust when I close my eyes,
let's take a bath and swallow each other.
Dance with me, Baby, before the blood stings our eyes and your mother
comes up to check on you.