He wore sharp claws as a bracelet,
and they called him Kid. Still…
he was wanted.
I wonder if that Kid ever got high and unhinged
on green heels of glassed Absente
and ran from the wants of the law.
He could have!
For the kiss of a magpie that sparkles with cinder,
and a tumble in imaginary gardens with real toads in them.
Songs of Absente