In a house that is grey-blue and not entirely mine
Within this cheesecake-textured dream in the morning,
There are nine others, men and women, besides her and I
(Where she came from I do not know or care, she is sex)
Who decide to stay on the first floor while she and I ascend the stairs.
As she rides out her frustrations pleasurably on top of me,
The One Man enters the house and destroys the rest of them.
We asked for directions twice, the same place,
That white house with the black door, the old couple seated on rockers,
They eschew the same directions to the same dead house.