A song and a wish rolling smooth
Like waves, rippling a somber salute.
Why do you always look like the last day before summer?
All soft, perfect and expectant?
Like sunshine on a glacier.
Like black tar in a spoon.
A jar of scrabbling
angry
noise
exploding neatly on the floor.
Keep reaching for my lips.
Keep swatting at emtpy pockets and full lighters.
If I hold it in long enough, shut my eyes,
and squeeze every last hope
I wonder if I could be expunged of all the muck, cancer, and bullshit.
Still works.
Sometimes.