Wednesday, March 14, 2012


How many times can I hit
before I finally bust
Where's the signal out here
Where's the lesson
I smell piss on the bus
I taste the mix on the street
I feel the warm soft welcome
of Indiana in the snow
as I rattle by
on the train
I crush myself into a notebook
I smear my worst on a page
I got a small flask of bourbon
and I glued a stitch-worthy cut closed
I saw collapsing factories
I felt the sickening bounce and shuffle
I take a hot hard swig
from so much more than that flask
the lady in the sleeper car next door
is on a rosary tangent
my friend's asleep and shaking
but Indiana stayed up with me
Indiana's letting me in

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