justwrite 1 march

Spring as it were looks muddier than her hair remembers the weather winds itself through curls and underwoven braids we’ve staved off the execution but the retribution for too many butterbread nights and the holiday frights well I don’t have to tell you we don’t all drink carrot juice and these are the tired moments we cannot postpone it any longer there ought to be a blowout or a dragdown or a knockaround somethingrather I can’t gather enough wits together to pitch a feather up in the sky just to see where it’ll land I’m grandstanding it’s a happy sanding that papers its own edges we’ve dredged up the firehose we wonder where the feeling goes when we’re done with it have fun with it and tear it off the rings the notebook sings confused blue lines and the graphing’s all fine as long as you’re after a protractor or two to do right by them we do right best when the caterpillars wait only as long as they wish it’s a funny fish that swims in the desert and it’s a happy bird that lives in a puddle if you know what I mean and any other scene but this one would be just fun enough to cash in on but there’s no cow to tow here no wow factor no extractor or underground alarm clock I’m ticking off the digits until we’re quick enough to bridge it’s a few too many steps ahead to tell but I might as well imagine out loud the maddening crowd that’ll really get to me I’m fit to be fired but I already quit and that’s really just it I can’t piece together the whether or the not and it’s already done I’ve sung the song enough times but the rhyme’s not right and the chorus doesn’t fit I’m not making it up I’m stuck and tangled in the half-employed wrangle of jeans that don’t fit the scenes I’m cast in I’m last in line and the first to go I’m a half-hour show in a two-hour block I can talk what the whistles say but the manner of play I’d rather deal out is low in diamonds and high on spades I’ve got it made in clubs where the hearts are all out and the doubts rise up without kneading too