All our stupid horses

All the head in my water is clean
from being laser-scrubbed when the temperature's low
plastic futures in an android's hair
lead me to believe my fortune's not here.

Taking a sponge to hotel-room walls
in a hologram world there's no rise and no fall
a floating brain in formaldehyde jar
isn't something appealing to kiss.
And the unwound circuits in a pretty girl's wrists
are no place for a man to stop and drink.

Double vision leaves one deadly road, the other
faint heaven where mirages touch
like couples groping feverish in the mist.
An upright beaver in a cinema world
cuts its teeth to pieces on a telephone pole.
The kisses in the forest unheard still exist.