To smile below the urchin sunglass frames
As she wheels her striped socks and hipster hat
By the drifter with coconut coir skin
And eyes there's not morphine enough to dim
Who leans on a column by the bank smoking
As the morbidly obese woman in black
Walks her spotted great dane, and looks smaller.
They have chosen their woes like a crystal set
To serve visitors their tears and regrets,
And we drink from the river without pause
For the gift it bestows of a single hue
Trapped inside of the whole. And if we don't
See ourselves, we can resist what we're not --
How much horror do they got, to keep us
Intact, no longer melting into it?
