I'm A Little...You Know The Rest
Of course I want to rage - kettle myself
I know how to whistle
The man at the corner was screaming repent into traffic
his mouth a dark hole into which pennies could drop and never fulfill a single wish
I thought about the unsteady hand that drew the sign
thick black scrawl against sunflower yellow
these are Charlie Brown lines I thought I wanted to yell out the window
THESE ARE CHARLIE BROWN LINES
But I drove through the intersection - his wild hair in the wind
It's cold in Santa Fe today and this man is freezing to message
His temperature must be high
The problem with my raging - it evaporates quickly
becomes herbal tea
I never said this was going somewhere interesting
though you came on board and probably assumed it would destination
The reality is that I stare into the abyss of life and I don't even see an abyss
I see a thin cloth - loosely woven and unevenly made
full of holes and without pattern other than the continued overlaying of things
And I don't think raging helps thin cloth sustain
Steam does though - maybe - in directional ways
Iron-like ways
What I'm saying is that I don't want to rust but I don't want to shine either
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