This is what I'm doing:
picking apart your mermaid scales
and interpreting that damn song of yours.
and in case you're wondering, it's rude to say the things you say.
I'm also deciphering the code. It's not real.
the code can't be real.
it's just a curly headed california sunset;
a son-of-a-bitch illusion.
This is what I know:
It's okay to stand on the concrete embankment,
taller than real life
under the pinks and blues.