Stuck Between The Stations

Stuck Between Stations

there are nights when i think that sal paradise was right. boys and girls in america have such a sad time together.
sucking off each other at the demonstrations.
making sure their makeup's straight.
crushing one another with collossal expectations.
dependent, undisciplined, sleeping late.

she was a really cool kisser and she wasn't all that strict of a christian.
she was a damn good dancer but she wasn't all that great of a girlfriend.
he likes the warm feeling but he's tired of all the dehydration.
most nights were crystal clear but tonite its like it's stuck between stations
on the radio.

the devil and john berryman took a walk together
they ended up on washington talking to the river
he said "I surrounded myself with doctors and deep thinkers
but big heads with soft bodies make for lousy lovers".
there was that night that we thought that john berryman could fly.
but he didnt so he died.
she said "you're pretty good with words but words won't save your life"
and they didn't so he died.

he was drunk and exhausted but he was critically acclaimed and respected.
he loved the golden gophers but he hated all the drawn out winters.
he likes the warm feeling but he's tired of all the dehydration.
most nights were kind of fuzzy but that last night he had total retention.


these twin city kisses.
sound like clicks and hisses.
and we all come down and drown in the mississippi river.

we drink
we dry up.
we crumble into dust.

we get wet we corrode
we get covered in rust.