the trick is to find purpose in the mundane

like hopscotch bottle rockets

off a sunset balcony

and if dishes were horses

i would be singing cowboy songs

like tyson or lund

and if worries were airline tickets

i would be in the big smoke

walking holes in my shoes along queen

talking to myself

'that oughta be a song'

or

'that oughta be a poem'

or

'i could set up camp in her teeth'

it's true

here we go again