Let's use our nicknames When we apply for this next job Even though it's past our bedtime And our current paycheck Can't shut up the muse Who mewls at the dinner table Begging for a crust of bread To sate the nightly terrors. For they come, don't they, Leaving empty spaces numbers Are supposed to fill. Buddy And Chip loaded their coffers Before the hard freeze. The ice burns our tongues As we swallow prosperity One parched drop at a time.
I chart the psyche, observing how I force myself to speak to you, imagining that together we might transform a life. Why this need to document change, to reverse a mood, to carry forward the time when magnolias bloom? Let’s follow the itinerant we up and over the jonquil's back, treading on its spilled bullion.