would leave me tumbling out of car doors
onto the streets where marching bands
thump the earth in matching shoes?
when i found Jesus, he was under my bed
so i called into work, tell them i wasn't going to come
but they told me that i needed to even though
i was sick, so i came in late,
told Jesus that i would be back in a while
and to not touch anything, especially that red box
hiding in the drawer in my closet—of course,
if he were under my bed, he would have heard
everything anyway.
the air smells like fried fish. it reminds me
of the pub where we saw everyone.
i still have to go to work.
No comments:
Post a Comment