it hits him hard at times
reality and what this life
is supposed to mean
only what we make it mean
I am sure of it
it hits him hard
as he watches the dog rest
without a care in the world
worries he will never be
an idol in America
hasn’t moved much in thirty years
what will he make it mean
it hits him hard at times
like a sand bag from above
hope it misses everyone else
many purposes together
how is it we fit
like to talk of peace
in terms of dollars
I want to work at a bookstore
and read everything written
it hits him hard
hardly at all
he mostly has to crumble
the entire thing
in six days
six nights
and tonight the sky is clear
the moon is full and rising
across the street
over the roof in treetops
two weeks until mountains will
hide the rising moon
the only mountain around here
is the one of buried trash
I see it on the ride back home…
No comments:
Post a Comment