SideStreet

There is always a mouth
At the back of your head,
A voice like a saw on a nail,
An eye like a bullet
molded from poisonous lead
And a mind that is thin as rail.
There is always a darkness
Right over there,
And a thing that you know is all wrong,
A parcel of something
You need to ignore
A place where you do not belong.

September 1oth, 1975