Lletres: Mother Hips. Back To The Grotto. The Figure 11.

There was a nation of people
who lived on the edge of a circle
and they truly believed in the notion
of rotation.
But where is your circle, Black Elk?
And where are the people that you rode with?
Yes, I'll admit that the sky is a circle
and the wind blows the seasons around.
But you must always remember, Black Elk,
two people standing together
resemble
the figure eleven.

Pitter patter, silver platter
whose is the head that goes on top tonight?
I was the brass key tied to the string of the kite and your were the lightening.
If there was a rope from my head to my hands then I guess after this it would be tightening.
I feel like the Yeti who reads in the paper reports of a farcical sighting.
If barks could ever really be worse, there'd be no more biting.
Isn't this exciting?

And there is nothing strange between two strangers.
I am a mountain range and I don't need any rangers.
And the people stay the same when the leader changes.
Lift up your hands and extend two fingers;
consider
the figure eleven.

"I me miney" is so tiny
wonder how you look to someone else.
Allow this to explain itself...