The Moon walked me to sleep tonight
Slowly down the road
Splashing in partially exposed puddles
Reflecting Eve’s pale glow
My echo rumbled deep within
And off unseen giants skin
Ursa Major reared, head ablaze
As I found my bed to tuck in
Blame not the recharge
Left slowly puddling into a dark corner
Of this uneven hardwood floor,
Nor should holy boats
Hold these oars tightly so.
Thee witness’ callused palm
Scrapes dry a soiled seat,
And a martyr hangs listlessly
As townsfolk carry on.
Mild wind blows a crooked sign
Making rust set within,
Harder then an open wound
Stronger then the sun.
I am sorry for the overdraft on expenses
For the withdrawal of complete funds
And exercising my options.
But I’m not.
I’m lying and it’s not a puddle of sadness.
I’m drowning and it’s not because of the waterline,
It’s a challenge and that’s just alright.
Cause Momma’s pullin in six figures
And Daddy’s got a gun
And I ain’t coming back from paradise
‘Til long after setting sun.
Summer air and little drops
That puddle jump night to sleep.
From every lair come out great worms
Slithering through fresh mud.
Slugs depart on epic journeys
Across deep dark blacktop oceans.
And as all things growing
Freshness from great rains,
Morning brings what can be called
A horticulturalists most desirable dream.