Terminal Lounge Catalogues.

So you subscribe to ideas of learning whilst drunk

we are taught of children that feed on the roadside

Of wishing sprees by crab Apple trees

spires Show that We will never be freemen

Until we can rise.

as a catalogue is passed to find a prom dress 

As we sit back and take the world in

all in from a cold tin bath with wings.
In the Realism that a education might get 

You somewhere, like Morning Prays

for sin fore sine under bequeathed strains

Of bacterial lifes

Whilst still learning to swim in a cloudy pool.
Foraging man in the deforested 

graves along the old London roads

Searching For pews to sit through a life 

you can’t live let alone write a script for

even if you have the time to travel

As hems of choirs and shoreline lovers 

drive on Friday.
to leave others ideas of a childhood behind

As we ride in numbered automobiles 

watch the lido queue and those that argue 

over park and ride.

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