Jesus Christ
that little jump they do
when squeezing jeans on...
I'd give my
oh-uh-uh-uh--
I lost it in my ankles.
To think
not once
but thousands
of bygone better times
I've witnessed such communion
and lived to humbly miss it.
These catatonic rods and cones
may never see again
so hold the line
and keep the faith
for sins of omission
prove equally mortal.
All points east are out of bounds
for a noose-burnt harrier on the prowl
though it's just as well
he has his limits
that his tether snapped.
The denizens of sea-faring towns
and those who build the world
are skilled in the realm of tying knots.
But me?
I've lashed my hands.
In the words of a better man:
"There'll be water if God wills it."
This is the strangest lick of love
the likes of me will pen
as all fingers are left out
along with senseless questions.
Sometimes, though rarely
the best man wins
but when a loser gets lucky
he'll only break toes
for kicking the curb
when out it runs
like the ink
like the blood
like the time in our lives.
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