Scoring on Ice Planet Hoth (poem)
The dealers are dressed like Tuscan Raiders
always asking for little favours
take this in a kiss
and give it to the girl
with the plats that curl
and the eyes filled up
with the end of the world
There’s this Jedi Mind trick they play
to make you think
that this one
is the last one
that this one’s
the last one
and you’re stopping today
