Peel back the afternoon, gold on my hands, A curved crescent fellow with potassium plans. You rest in the kitchen, absurd and sublime, A soft yellow planet growing ripe with time. Banana, slow orbit, carry me round, Sweet little satellite, low to the ground. I sway where the strange-colored currents begin, You ask me a question and pull me within. The bowl turns slowly, my head it swims, A green-tinted residue grows along the rim. Topographical freckles like maps in the sun, A pocket-sized cosmos, who's ripe peel is undone. Banana, slow orbit, carry me round, Sweet little satellite, low to the ground. I sway where the strange-colored currents begin, You ask me a question and pull me within. One bite, and perception takes a leisurely tilt, The clock loses count of the hours we’ve built. Your yellow horizon folds into blue, And every long winding road curves back to you. Banana, slow orbit, carry me round, Sweet little satellite, low to the ground. I sway where the strange-colored currents begin, You ask me a question and pull me within.
