My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean

perhaps streetwise to touch of hands
true animals in suburban clothing
this is america of documentary
keeping my brother from faces
dab crowds in dark water color
keeping the twenties
in constant repair of vision
these stones told the first stories
they are now for soup
feast days that end the fast
rusts like irony with youth
when christians are at the gates
that eat the young of the unfaithful
we are hip to even the best excuses