Ones self I sing
    
      Yet utter the words
    
?.. gin & tonic lol.

Whats left from the ball game
I walk through rows of soggy buns
And deluted beer
No one finishes:
Conrad creates a trash bag pancho
Brandon finds an unopened can of beer
Stephens still engaged to spider women
And the carboard folds like a soft taco
When I stuff tarter sauce in my water logged trash bag
I under stand trench warfare completly:
My toes are drowining
Andrew thinks hes a dog
Dwain gave up drinking six years ago
Allens speaking gibberish (we still love him)
I dont know why
Were here.
Each of us wear the same caps
Like a team of washed up minor league players
wondering why were still here
Even more when we have to work for the rain.

At the lite I watched an old but still usefull sports car.
There were twenty two years of cars behind this old sports car.
The last one sped by at the green lite.
We both watched a brand new april four twenty four 2013 mustang straight from the dealer leave the the green lite.  
We knew Eventually it would catch up to and pass the old sports car up ahead.  
When our green lite came I turned around and watched your son Brayden sleep
In his car seat.

You do not need every penny on the grey side walks.
   You dont have to avoid breaking the mirror inside of your soul.
   Just listen to the wind slowly move the leaves.
   And follow your quiet dreams know one will ever know.
   Rite now the salmon are returing upward against all odds.
   What ever you loose.
   And when you win.
   Remember how lifes sacrafice begins.

Agonies sweat swims around the anointed  like a undesired coo pool.  
The chorline burns our eyes with icy tears, while we wonder if well ever see the truth again.  What happened when they realesed the  flood of hope?  All of the souls drowned like helpless pigeons trying to swim.

Her inviting blue eyes
                      
                         Met my dark brown

           My secret love

                                         So calm and profound.

I tried and gave up before I got killed from the choking smoke.  I couldnt save a book from the old flames scolding ambers.  I watched it all do itself in.  Later I scattered beer and clear **** over the ashes.  And thought of my old garbage:
Everything lost its meaning,
The Picture frames
And Tv sets,
My hawain legg lamp,
Their all at home with earth again.
I heard fires good for earths rejuvanation.
It takes us back home again,
Our real home, even if it seems like a soiled creamatorium once in a while.