Jake's Flea Market

i’ll tell you the metaphor   i’ll tell you the lie
this is that   there is here   then is now   i’ll tell you the clothing
dress life up   put makeup on its face
coathanger a pair of tight levis up its legs   cover its ass
wire a bra   add support to firm its sagging form
button a blouse to accentuate the curves of its body   i’ll tell you the outfit
that’ll make it look good   that’ll make it desirable

brings me out at night introduces me to the crowds   that 
which is remembered   thought   desired   nothing
it's nothing ‘til i put it into words  speak the fishnet
stockings that make it the whore   speak the habit
that makes it the nun   speak the gown
that makes it the bride   it doesn’t matter
whatever verbal costume i give it it always takes me home

comes to me in the night   i see
the harsh colour   the sickly colour   the deathly colour of its skin   speak it
in circles   blend it   disappear it into the more 
vibrant colours of what metaphoric lingerie i can talk it into   ah
if i speak it bare it’s all medusa   it’s all gorgon i insist
on closed curtains   lights 
turned off before it disrobes   before 
i look at it by utter darkness   before
i take it in my nuded arms   before
i hold it to my naked heartbeat and sleep