Parakeet

you wake up in the morning   and fall out of your bed mean cat eat parakeets                     H and this one’s nearly dead. you dearly wish the wind shift and greasy windows slide open for the parakeet                    H who’s colored bitter lime. open the window and lift into your dreams lately baby                     H7 you can barely breathe. a broken wrist an accident you know that something’s wrong you fold the leavings of your past                  H no one knows you’ve gone. the sunspot flares of the early nineties light up your wings. and scan the shortwave radio                   H it’s tracking outer rings. open your window to  lift into a dream baby baby                      H7 you can starts to breathe the tectonic dispatcher shifts to smooth the ocean floor and flattens out to warmer winds                   H of Brisbane’s sunny shore. where buddhas tend to mending wrists a tea made from the leaves of eucalyptus fragrances             H and coriander seeds. open the window to lift into a dream baby baby you can starts to breathe. open your window to  lift into a dream baby baby                      H7 you can starts to breathe you wake up in the morning to warm Pacific breeze where mean cars chew on licorice and cannot climb the trees.