Wednesday, June 22, 2011
good clean sheets,
cotton in a box a gift of jewelry comes in,
and snow when there's no way home?
Two are no good going back to when the shine is gone.
All of them can be thrown, but not far enough to satisfy real anger.
All of them can seem pretty at first, until you see how things really are.
Dearie baby, come out from behind that glass and set your clipboard down.
Shove that pencil up your ass,
And talk to me when your heart stops, frozen, in a drift of things the same or different, a million miles from home.
for One Shot Wednesday