Four O'Clocker 2

Making love with a bucket and a spatula
Spreading butter on the ground
Crossing the sands in a jaunty crew full of mismatched hands
The high hump of the camel gives a tasty view of your lumpy countenance
Your coat is flapping off your yak
You got my goat with a sheepskin sack
Last night I climbed up the back of a fat woman in a sweaty print dress
And tonight I’m lying with the snout and I cry for her
And she said, «Maybe for a dollar.»
She’d made up her mind to make herself mind
Because she was drunk and drunker and drunk
She soiled my sheets and stepped on my feet
Bled on my towels and opened her bowels beneath my pillow
Where my head should rest to escape the rest
She said she needed some rest
She said she was too tired for love
She said, «Special place, I know you’re here
I want to find you and whack you and forget you for good.»
She said, «Somewhere, but not here…
Maybe at four o’clock or two. Four o’clock or two.»