this is the shag-time, the leading edge

of oblivion, baby, I'm

not just making this up, tomorrow

we'll all be gone, dead

as karma and electricity, dead

as Marlowe's ghost, or Marley's, can't

remember who's who anymore, so

don't freak when I call you Jennifer or

Hayley or Amber or Bambi

(yes I knew a Bambi once) just

go with the flow, move with the groove,

find your happy thoughts, whatever

it takes because it's you and me and

a sliver of sunlight threatening the sky

so I don't have much time before

I lose the animal inside

don't have much time before

the change unchanges me

don't have much time to howl

at the sundered moon, drink

of the black night, and rut

with the heat of a wolf

before the Sun explodes

and we all find out

what silver bullets feel like