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Aimee Mann

from the 22nd floor / walking down the corridor / looking out the picture window down on Sycamore
while perspective lines converge / rows of cars and buses merge / all the sweet green trees of Atlanta burst
like little bombs / or little pompoms / shaken by a careless hand / that drives them off / and leaves again
life just kind of empties out / less a deluge than a drought
less a giant mushroom cloud / than an unexploded shell inside a cell of the Lennox Hotel
on the 22nd floor / found a notice on my door / while outside the sun is shining on / those little bombs / those little pompoms
life just kind of empties out / less a deluge than a drought
less a giant mushroom cloud / than an unexploded shell inside a cell of the Lennox Hotel