1. Drinking Song

The moon is chalky, white & thin.
The moon is bitter as aspirin.
She drinks it down with a glass of gin.

Clear and strong the moonbeams fall
As the proof of alcohol,
And everything they touch, appall.

But there are stars for all her ills—
A scattering of spilled, white pills,
The glass is sweating as it chills.


2. Hang-up

The telephone is threatening suicide,
Weeping shrill
As a jolted bride,
Trilling, I will, I will.
When has it ever lied?

Its black umbilical slinks
Into the wall,
It’s listening in. It thinks,
Nudging towards the brinks,
We never call.

It wails in its cradle, look,
What we forsook,
Angry as cancer.

And we will never be off the hook,
And there’s no answer.