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Tiny Prayers
Fifth snow-covered Tuesday in so many weeks
Check the mail for the sixth or seventh time today
Fold this mighty newspaper over and over
Anxiety quelled by underline
Tiny prayers to the coffee cups scattered all across my house My only measure of time
In whose world do these accolades matter?
I guess not mine
My slow world spins the same
Fully consumed with what my grandparents used to do
A contact high
Method acting
Scatted like ashes
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Scattered like my old homes
Scattered like stars
After all that what did you expect to see
Yell until you're blind and or all out of money
Twenty-five Strummers and too many Ramones
Like there's no place left to go
I don't know what's worse
No opinion or no thirst
Or how I can't find a better use for my time
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