cold enough for a fire
she woke up the little one
like an old mother
I put her shoes on and listened
walked the dog to the bus
insufficient funds
but he gave me the coffee
anyway
then past the black houses
where nothing ever happens
car crash in front of my house
gave my nice neighbor a hug
broke my own rule
bob dylan on the stereo
for like ten years straight
posted my lonely paintings
wrong city for this career
forgot about suicide and lust
for at least ten minutes
try to hit the mark if you can
might as well be honest
talking to ghosts
mysteries in the wind
glass and fiberglass and plastic
being swept up by firemen
in the storm
On to the bank
ought to let go of the dream,
but I won't, will I?
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