Standingat the end of it allyou’ll see slatespecked with midnightyour calloused handsclutching goose-kissed armsnipples settingagainst the scratchof your woolen shrouddrops of sweatspreading across your napeIn the faceof such human sensationsit will take real gallto listen for my voicecallingdon’t go without medon’t leave without metake me with youbut you will jump anyway
Go ahead and jump