Riding The Bus To Get Home (The Sun Is Burning The Window And Then Me)

I want to lie in fields surrounded
by pine cones in flourescent orange,
and poles connecting wires and
make love (not to you).

I want to lie in fields surrounded
by trees and lavender stones
and stretch between the lines in
the mud and make love
(not to you).

I want to feel my breast
and legs go numb and lie
in fields beneath the mud
and teach you about street
cars but never once make love.

I will chase your flying
garbage, I will cross
my fingers that your
car comes soon but
I will not love you.

The city is too hot, the
country is too dull and
I want to make love
(but not to you).