county road 10A

Went with Sinatra,
like so many slow nights by the river
walking down broken dirt roads
hearing the laughter of neighbors over the wine-whispers
(two people fooling around on a trampoline)
one lone word for the rest of tonight: please.
So slowly, with headphones, a song made of dust
drips from any child into the abyss
where every good thing lives
(it�s easier to write with paintbrushes)
and here is where the simplest things lie, turning: on roadsides
I�ll try the new life
not too different from the old one
left wrappers from candy in ditches
(before I learned about strategic decomposition)
it�s happened too many times.
Waking up in long green valleys, a bit hung over
and rolling over beneath the blanket, smelling your skin first thing in the morning
you�re a world away in the land of
pretty dreams
at least, if the careful way your eyelids touch is any indication.
Beautiful as sin.


2004-10-22 | 10:50 a.m.
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