Awell Poem by Dedrick Estiltaph

AWELL

down steps she walks in white,
shined, shining of spit.

away on planes, her hair wanes/
and waves and stretch to reach,
repeats,
and stretch to reach,
the highest point
to me is biscuit & coffee.

oh, oh, oh, the finger wagging,
here comes bald man with finger wagging:
I'm in for it now!
the prole, he says through syrup,
the prole, the prole, the prole,

(while d-r says I gutter words, repeats,
I guttered words, relax, I'm drought)

yes on ee. it's better than ff or cc. they make me numb.
only thing worse than numb is bleed (d-r says blee) we sing, we sing
out, awell.