Consuela

No pressure / no clues / but no lesser / the blues / i’m walkin' on
eggshells / wearin' sensible shoes / my dark ways / my half-crimes /
my big sways / my last times / i’m turning stock phrases / into gold-
spun rhymes / and the dust that it raises / blurs and borderlines /
well i’d rather be a street sign / or a tightrope wire / than the stretch
of road / that runs between the spires / we got threads to bare / now
that the prayers have been prayed / we got treads to wear / now
that the fares have been paid / consuela, would you name this
desperation? /the line between the sea and sand can be our
destination…