Monday, June 20, 2011


we’ve got blue suede and high tides

and whisky to keep us warm

we’ve got hospital stays

and worries at bay

and hearts shaped like mules

the ocean’s a drop in the pail

of trashy good looks

and runaway heads or hearts on the lam

who could stand

just ground worm meat

and a fan-less tail

not sleepers like us

not for banana peels

not for cigarettes

we’ve got splashed eyes

and soda water

we’ve got harm to hot-wire

we’ve got shady sides of the street

a pigeon named dove

a smoker you love

and a bad time

that’s all good all around

when it’s getting later than it should

when crying laughs like it could

then we’ll paint trash cans

moon colors à la mode

while waiting

for mailboxes like also-rans

to give up

and just explode