Oh, Tennessee wind is blowin',
Skies been lookin' grey.
**** hounds keep on whinin',
And I ain't seen your face.
Oh... in so many days...

I'd ask you over, baby,
But it seems there ain't no space.

Oh, Mose is in the front room,
Sleeping on the floor.
There's a leaky pipe in the bathroom,
And no henge on the door.

Oh, if I hardly please you,
Can't give you a home you'd like.
When I worry about the things I say,
Honey, that ain't no life.

there are still bits of
her about

a dress in the closet,
an apron in the kitchen,
notes she wrote me
posted on my desk,
a jar of letters,
a karma sutra book,
and not to mention
all the memories

can I exorcise that?
I can throw out the papers
and give back the clothes
but after living here for
so long:
can this place exist
without her?

I sit alone,
unsure of what to do
with these totems,
these idols to a false
god

thunder crackles outside
as it begins to rain