This is me, this is 6:23
I’m waiting for your
signal fire. I’m counting
how many days it’s been.
The geese are flying westward
because
the wind is being a control freak and
because
I agreed it’s best to be unconventional.
My head is turning red from this handstand and I don’t even think you looked yet.
What free vacation did you win?
Where have you been?
The truth between my first glass of
get me the hell out of here and my thirty-second glass of
well I wanted to get out, but if you stand here with me,
‘it ain’t so bad darling.’
Life glides
without me pushing it.
The world turns without you spinning it.
We’ve got ourselves a whole new town attraction
and wonder if we are still needed.
Sanity is a high price for living and since the taxes on chocolate has gone up,
I can’t afford it.
You’ve never paid your bills.
Admirable, I say, at least.
Your vices are in a jar that you hold in your hand and holler for me to look.
Like my unborn five-year old son, holding worms.
Drink our rubies down -
We challenged the world to make us better,
but we showed up late for the appointment.
We’ll just start thumbing through to find that homemade recipe.