She’s another bat-faced folk singer
sketching outlines over a choppy strum.
He’s a song again, she made him
what he is and she is because of him.

Even the earth has fissures no one sees
on the surface what you get is spank pink,
just enough to stimulate, no open wounds.
She wrote down every word he ever said

to her, he’s naked in the people’s court,
and the jury thinks Justice is a dream
shh-boom, shh-boom, sweetheart.
Roll credits and fade to commercial.