Ain’t no rats

And ain’t no significance.

Ain’t no shade

And ain’t no aunt of mine.

Ain’t no pole dancer

And ain’t no desk worker.

Ain’t no pollution filler

And ain’t no belly tap tipper.

 

This ain’t no number of mine

This ain’t no number of mine

 

A twisted fate

And tree roots with a lock hold on your ankles

A leftover date

And dark clouds rolling in over head

A dead mate

And streaks of fire falling from the sky

A breeder of hate

It’s not my fault, but my dear,

You are too late.

 

This ain’t no number of mine

This ain’t no number of mine

 

Ain’t no obituary.

And ain’t no surprise.

Ain’t no dinner maze.

And ain’t no donation.

Ain’t no signature

And ain’t no admiration.

Ain’t no scent of intercourse

And ain’t no cherry pie.

 

 

This ain’t no number of mine

This ain’t no number of mine

 

 

© 2006 David Greg Harth

06.06.06.06:06:06@296NYC