—I AM SEEING IN ME NOW, THE THINGS YOU SWORE YOU SAW YOURSELF

 

Formosa

 

We left 

New York 

for a 

constipated 

lane that 

never ends

two tickets 

to a runway 

gun show 

and a furnace 

pinched too tight

If it was fame 

you wanted 

you could have 

shot the mayor

Everyone has 

their reasons 

you say 

and they say 

we’re foreigners 

destined to get 

lost once we 

realize where 

we’ve landed