Going to Bolivia

The Mountain Goats

john: it is the only appliance that grinds the grain into flour 
and kneads the dough in the same container 

I cut myself a two-foot switch from some tropical hardwood nearby. 
and the sounds of a carnival drifted miraculously 
through the air from a thousand miles away. 
the monkeys jumped from tree to tree. 
it sent a deathly chill through me 
in bolivia 

wildcats I had never seen claimed places in my room. 
animal noises rang through the thick brush like voices from the tomb. 
I saw the freshly polished chrome 
gleaming in the mid-day sun. 
and I knew that you were coming home 
to bolivia. 

hey hey
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