toothpaste/coffee house

crazy child; your mother
hardly knows what to think
with your ghandi impersonations
in the bathroom mirror
and I'll be your girl for that.

in the churn house where the butter
is turned to charcoal, butterwork bricks,
and grapevine barrels awash with wine,
crazy child my friend craig
you build a tower and a turret
take me to a restaurant that burns
oil lamps, green and purple, red and friendly,
friendly fires. take me to the barn
in the side room where the
jams and pickles are stored and
tell me a story, only a story, an
innocent story of children in the straw
on the floor,
take me to a coffee house and
sing a song of chocolate brittle and
dark peanuts
I'll be your girl then.