justwrite 9 may

Speaking of victory there are questions there are lessons but no one’s learning just winning on and on and the colors of the crayons are wrong but on we scrawl and have a ball or two of cheese crunchy if it’s that kind or really just about any sort will do it’s true we want to hear ourselves speak but the creak in the chair means I’m up without a paddle and the skidaddle that happens next leaves me in an empty room only it’s not empty if I’m there so that’s something and really I’m surprised to find the space defined that way with here I am and all so let’s go to the map collapsing skirts and other perimeters of what to wear tomorrow and other grown-up sorrows there are no thoughts that end with sense in this regard trying hard to match the season and mishmashed occasions the lazy phrases we use and the suppositions that we offer each other in place of reason yes a thought for the rhyme but nothing much doing there so over where the sky is accented and the colors taste better there are numbers here to punch and a whole bunch of reason lining up the rhyme we’re timing it double and working out the snags dragging crooked fingers to pull up stockings and rocking loose teeth once more into the breach but right there I need to stop don’t need to top off my dreams before they start it’s an easy part to play with the teeth but they stay right in place if I have anything to do about it because that’s what my dreams are made of when they’re made to order like sandwiches wrapped in crinkly paper driving across Pennsylvania provolone cheese and black olives sheetz I’m coming home