I always scrambled
looking for things to distract myself;
where to go for beer -
should I have a fire tonight?
Revive the ghosts entwined to their roots
drinking moonshine in the twilight.
Maybe write poems riding on one way tracks
or off the rails -
screaming silence at starless skies.
I wanted to buy something on Amazon,
but i couldn’t remember what it was;
a consumerist problem.
Unlike the smell of freshly cut grass
in rural Indiana;
a sunset without an audience.
My eyes were off
as the needles swept through decades
of scar tissue -
Subcutaneous tissue; a moon
with the light switch off
and sleep forever unending.
What if we could sprout wings
and fly...?
what if we did?
