November 12, 2015


A pillow lays on cold cement, a blanket by a broken vent
She's there a while, and then she's gone

I'm away for weeks, arrive at night
She hears my steps, turns off the light and runs

No mind at all, more space than I need
It's just me among the weeds, among the ghosts, among the leaves

We've never met but she's a girl
Romance paper books
The floor is covered in long blonde curls

On afternoons I walk the graves
The rusted cars, the mine shaft caves
See a girl sadly unkempt, a child of neglect
Under moons I pass the tombs
Cross the highways, smell the fumes
See a girl frighteningly gaunt, somebody didn't want
How do I tell her I don't care, if she sleeps downstairs?

I see her on my errand runs
Looking nervous like a young Mia Farrow

Walking 'long the gas stops
Window browsing pawn shops, guns, bows and arrows

Up on past the Halfway house
Past the signs Eighty South, Buttercup and Carrows

Drinking Wild Irish Rose
At the dead end down the road, sleeping with the sparrows

When evening comes I play guitar
For the planets and the stars
I leave the porch light on like I do when I'm gone
Winter, spring, summer, fall
Basement's yours, have a ball
There's always room for you there... really baby I don't care

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