To hear the executioner’s song
Espresso for you, cappuccino for me
I like it frothy, the cream greasing my lip
As I pucker at the rim
You want it bitter
The cup to splinter
When you drive me
Into the arms of the naked and the dead
Those prisoners of sex
The armies of the night
Putting up a fight
They hand me a coffee flask
In the castle of the forest
I walk towards the harlot’s ghost
And learn about a fire on the moon
Wasn’t that how you filled the big empty noon?
To hear the executioner’s song
- - -
Norman Mailer took flight from earth yesterday at the age of 84. He just did not go well with tea, so I have used coffee. The italicised words are names of his books, and so is the title.
1 comment:
Excellent!
Post a Comment