Pitter patter, the rain dies down The breeze's brushes, the only sound The ride was pleasant, the rental was sweet I miss when us was we Good luck with your poems Is the next one of me I turned around to face you A new shade of green You picture a knock-off A Blanco Neruda I crochet a sleeve And two so you can keep 'em I turned to un-face you Hadn't seen me for months You looked down at my back And you saw blood Oooo What did you see in me, other than guts A girl with pigtails, protruding front What did you see What did you see in me other than guts A stick figure collage Of