Curl the hand at the ear
Lean in with that trumpet piece
Words clamor out
Goblins if anything
Sewed up those listening holes
And stretched those speaking mechanisms
Sentences cling together desperate in tone and speed
Like fresh refugees accumulating in the air
Thing about refugees is only the sympathetic will accept them
Sympathetic ears are rare these days
Your pleas can tumble out of you
Goblins out of a barrel
No hiding place on the side of my head
No cave for hungry words
Warts of language, greasy and speculative
Good luck finding a landfill big enough
Riding on a mouth like that
Tire lips wheel and motor mouth runs
Fat chance there'll be ears for your whining and singing
No gas station pumping, just silence if anything
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