From Beautiful Locks

For seven miles we hoofed it

Chasing after 
A couple of good ideas
The waters stopped searching
For the ocean and puddled
I poured myself a mule
A wounded mule wiped
From beautiful locks.

What I poured myself
For seven miles 
Surgery in the streets
Charm on a dog

And a couple of good ideas
The eyes haven't got pretty
The waters stopped 
Home at the snake bite
Remembered the look
Of a sandwich
Grabbed at the hardware 
Grape waves a mantra
Which, invisible for fifteen years
Clear as the bottom of a lake
Where you and I were 

Charged with 

Swimming