I look at your eyes from the corner of the room
The glimmer of your glasses cover my imagination
Yes I know it's sweet that I'm overhearing your heartbeat
This kind of liking is kind of overbearing too soon

The hail and mistletoe curl into frosty tendrils
I know I'm a bit of *****, you cut your finger on me
I'll gladly **** your thumb and wrap my arms around you
But it's kind of sweet to know you love cheap thrills in the sheets

You can be my date
My chocolate cake
Taking my breath away

But, you are the stars in the sky
So far away

I am going to dig through
dumpsters today; alone or
with a fellow aluminum
cowboy. Our treasure is
cans. Thank God for
redemption. Each can is
worth a nickel, and if
we get enough of these
shiny miracles, we can
get a pint of *****,
our oasis in the desert.

I sift through trash bags
full of cat **** and broken dreams.
I find: losing lottery tickets,
broken costume jewelry, unwanted
books, and a ***** magazine.
I examine the jewelry closely,
hoping for a diamond or real pearls;
some silver or gold, something I
can pawn or sell and turn into
liquor- no such luck.
The whole thing smells like
death, and ****, and a
city dump in July.

Sometimes I think it
would be easier to just
quit drinking, but to do it
abruptly could **** me,
the withdrawal seizures can be deadly.
As the sun begins to set
on Iowa City, the sky
looks like a butterfly melting.
I haul my black garbage bag, full
of cans, over my shoulder
down the railroad tracks, and
across Highway 6.
I stop to ***** behind
a building, then wipe my
face and continue to
the store- to be redeemed.