Taxi Moo Gestation

If I can read lips, he said, “Taxi moo gestation.” Apparently I can’t read lips. — Beverly Allen, For Whom the Bluebell Tolls

I have a headache, and I need a pill,
Perhaps an osprey. I can see the sheen
Among the trees, I hear the mondegreen
Among the girls I left behind — my skill
Is leaving things behind. Now I feel ill,
And need more pills. Since I was seventeen
I’ve made my living in the space between
Truth and regret, courage and loss of will.

Please take me to your city by the lake,
Where we will balance on the waterspouts,
Lose all we once had on the roundabouts,
And jostle in the undergrowth. We’ll shake,
Escape the sour breath of the water snake,
And laugh at nothing: ink blots and bean sprouts.