I was a quick, wet boy Diving
too deep for coins
All of your street light eyes
Wide on my plastic toys
Then when the cops closed the fair
I cut my long, baby hair
And stole me a dog-eared map
And called for you everywhere
Have I found you Flightless bird,
jealous, weeping
Or lost you,
American mouth
Big bill looming
Now I'm a fat house cat
Nursing my sore, blunt tongue
Watching the warm, poisoned rats
Curl through the white fence cracks
Pissing on magazine photos
Those fishing lures
Thrown in the cold and clean
Blood of Christ mountain stream
Have I found you Flightless bird, grounded, bleeding
Or lost you, American mouth
Big bill still going down