| A row of trash
|
| Sits at the bottom of the fence
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| The cemetery
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| On Edmondson
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| On top, it’s flowers
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| I drive by every hour
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| Looming, in a dream
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| It’s just enough to keep me chained
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| My brain’s misbehaving
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| I spend three hours waiting
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| Staring at my phone
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| In a giant parking lot alone
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| Or lying prostrate outside
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| Menards, lit by truck light
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| Wanna open my heart
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| Wanna lay my head in Heaven’s arms
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| How do I know I’m not yet buried
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| There’s just enough to keep me wary
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| Last few weeks, forever floating
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| Face down on some highway’s shoulder
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| Swimming in each side street
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| Throwing glance at every dirty face I see
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| Or in the tub, face down sobbing
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| At the truckstop, spitting, vomiting
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| Enough to keep me tied
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| But not enough to sleep at night |