Or Thousands Of Prizes

There may be richness in purity
 Stillness, obscenity this Tuesday night
 In a touch of openness
 Carelessness, vulgarity, even spite
 And his boots lay on the carpet
 Beside his socks
 And her blouse was on the bedpost
 The drink is on the rocks
 They express perspiration
 Imagination, insinuation
 Salvation and moonlight
 As their eyes met almost cautiously
 Carefully, caressingly, as if they might
 In her hand
 She holds the object of her desire
 Through his fingers run the cradle
 Of our civilization
 It's such promises of senselessness
 Emotionless, defensiveness the two awoke
 For this sound of lawns mowing, trees growing, he's knowing
 She's going and they never spoke
 He takes the ribbon from her hair
 And makes a knot
 She reaches for her purse
 And then she stops
 Intellectually
 This economy
 Is under their advisement
 It's just
 Real sweat and not some TV sets
 The owner in the advertisements
 Don't be misled
 It's all in your head
 Things like bunny bread
 And that big red freshness
 Or doubling your pleasure
 Or thousands of prices
 Or thousands of prices
 Or thousands of prices