I wish that i had such curtains,
Bright red with those swinging golden tassels,
To block out the rising sun
And leave me to my white pillows,
Soft with their down filling holding my head,
To fly with the thief that i dreamt,
Always running two-states away to hide,
Who is a cute persian coward,
And there remain enrapt in my slumber,
Never to wake or fear distress;
I would build a transient house there [in dreams],
With wide open doors and windows
Where I would not see the inside ever,
Only the outside's meadows and clouds,
Where the flies don't make their landings on shit,
And my bowels are never dripping.
If I could just have those magic curtains,
I wouldn't have to think more than once.