THE SATISFACTION ORCHARD

To that tune,
I’d sweat it out among orange blossoms
And lemon redolence pouring into the air,
Tearing night from slender strings
And tender songs, like gladiolas slipped behind the seashell ears
Of raven women, the quiet gleam
Of a sweet and mortal God
Taking a sweet and mortal stroll
In the cool cool of the evening.

Ever seen an orchard that didn’t give
Satisfaction?
I could sweat it out
To the sly beats of
The glass cymbals in the leaves,
Feeling pretty damn good.
If you could feel it like I feel it,
Strumming like sap in my fingers
And on my cheeks oh baby
Some good tears and a shameless dance,
Oh scandal, to dance in an orchard
Beneath the rampant heart of a bare moon,
The sour wet heart of a bare naked moon,
Feeling pretty damn good.

I can hear the throaty scent
Of your soil, I can smell the silent mountain
Of you, a cool seduction of me
Under stars as pearled as garlic;
You are the sweet and mortal orchard.
Be my shivering midnight, a trembling
Under the bare naked thigh
Of the freshly rampant moon.
I declare,
It’ll feel pretty damn good.