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'
'that oughta be a poem'
'i could set up camp in her teeth'
here we go again