over the rim

sitting near a freeway on the dusty verge
picking tart berries from a briar patch
do we resist the urge to eat and dirge
yes! tho’ we’re vagabonds of a luckless batch

and we’re the queen and king of the universe
thrown on the scrapheap with crowns in hand
made from disposed packets of potato chips
we’re vowing to outlast this dead oasis

wiping berries clean with a dirty nose rag
feeding each other by hand and with laugh
to keep ourselves buoyed whenever we flag
in the scathing dust trails of the motor riff-raff

we’re the queen and king of the universe
regal wanderers with our crowns in hand
made from disposed packets of potato chips
we’re vowing to outlast this dead oasis

the night air smells of freshness and exhausting fumes
the cars swooshing past leaving snatches of tunes
we’re so tangled in tail light and bitumen plumes
that we’ve delayed overlong our return to the dunes

we’re the queen and king of the universe
waiting for the rapture, our crowns in hand
made from disposed packets of potato chips
we’ve vowed to outlast this dead oasis