The Misfit

I banked the plane into the clouds the tundra's static surface Drops beneath the spinning wheels of matter and of purpose The Misfit's empty presence drags me to the earth and matter The sun stops my waking dream Much sadder, much sadder, much sadder Alone among assembled souls it's later in the evening Back on land and holding fast to poisons and their seasons He interlaced his fingers round my spine, between my ribs Now I know that people die by telling themselves fibs Climb inside the cockpit and he's hanging on the wing I look away, he slides inside, I sing I sing I sing Floating in the air, my body's still chained to my bed I wander through the walls; I wonder if I'm dead Down below I see my shadow slide across the lake His hand is on my shoulder, squeeze until, squeeze until it breaks