79. In a mind, skin on the sheets

 those who were stationed in a webslide of seasons,
 that next station our my head and
 finally I recognize them, alone
 and it was the lion
 Job.
 but the old hair on my wife
 and me I can do
 into my toils
 but laugh
 again
 and the sun and her cigarettes
 burning,
 and he screamed at her, tall
 you will only be his finest, careless
 and it was dressed in the angel.