If you show me
a kite snagged on a wire
you're going to make me
go that way,
Slowly, rolling a cigarette
with steady hands,
molding the tobacco,
I would start walking.
Two or three meters
away from you,
you'd hear me say "Thanks,
now turn."
The last thing I want
upon my return, is to find
you turned into a pillar of salt,
which I'd have to carry back home
And scare the fuck out of
Gomorrah.
