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Ava Luna
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Steve Polyester
I was lying in the shade where the dandelions grow and asphalt is hollow and the rocks are broken down and brown, a not so popular part of town. We'd heard he was witty, we'd seen signs of it all around the city. The people said 'He's a landscape.' 'He's like a ruby lined in gold.' 'Yeah, shaped like a cockroach.' 'He smells good.'
These notions were hazy. Ordinary, a bit lazy. I was swinging on a branch outside catching a ride when my resolve swelled. I will find him I will. I have momentum still. Then I fell into an anthill. And the people said, doo doo doo doo...
They carried me back to my doorstep. The sun was in my eyes but I saw him. I saw him a friend a friend, I found in him a friend a friend. And he went by the name of Steve Polyester. He said 'I am a landscape, I am a ruby lined in gold, shaped like a cockroach I smell good.'
He was a landscape. Nonetheless he would escape. But it was for the best. This town will never be the same. Why'd he have to go? Who is there to blame?
And the people said doo doo doo doo...
I saw him a friend a friend. In him a friend a friend.
He started walking. He went farther than he ought to have gone. He went farther and farther until he was gone.
He was a landscape.
Come back.
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