justwrite 9 march

some sort of inspiration ought to result there’s no one at fault and the getting-over is mostly gotten over there’s no message waiting in that box there’s no tax for that talk and when you jump off a cliff there’s a splash in the best of situations it’s a braided story a narrative of multiple strands and various commands drift through we have no use for answers when all we ask are questions we teach unrelated lessons and we ought to go for runs but the sun’s in my eyes and it’s a coconut surprise waiting to make the same mistakes I did before I paid too much I baked too many I listed to more than was being said and I wrote my own epitaph practiced it aloud again and again the land rising up in the east turns out to be the sun strung along by music and unfortunate confusion the kind where illusions forget their hats and walk home in the snow the rain the pain coming down in buckets with luck it’s going to past but the forecast is in a foreign tongue and I’ve already strung this guitar with calamine lotion so my fingers won’t feel a thing won’t itch to play a song I know already my arms are too long for the coat I wanted to order a pizza and instead I got a potato you don’t know what you’re asking for but sometimes you get it and I’m waiting for a who I’m waiting for a clue there was the same word in the now-listening song I’m stronger than I could be I’m a memory groupie the truth we crowd around and fan like a lit-up spitfire the kind of plane you might want to hire if you’ll be taking that sort of trip if you’re turning an eclipse into a mint and not a moon not a crooning sort of reminder of how many windows have already gone to sleep the company I keep and the stars that I read in the bottom of my teacup have got me wondering have sent me plundering vague promises and volume control I owe it to my sole fan to keep hot to make the waving worthwhile I am in style as long as I smile with the best of them the rest of them passing the tests and breaking the nails we never fail to amuse ourselves we pay our healths forward like the five people we meet at the bazaar the car ride home always the shortest between two points and rolling those joined cues together we knock the stripes and the solids into conflicting pockets if I had a lock it’s on my heart if I had a shoe it’d be on my hand and there are no commands worth giving to anyone else just mind your own self and try to sing in tune