Transported
Over wrought
Built square
Keeping in, keeping out
Shaded
Medicated
Well read
Wet
Stone
And a new season
Of chutes and ladders
Big butts and bridges
Cold feet and smiles.
The Fork in the road
Fork the man
Fork the condiments.
Are we just rats
With no escape
Conned into luxury
Dreaming of beauty
Dreaming of what might be
Or just looking, playing, spinning silly yarns?
