Yeah, I asked the wind
It never responded
All I got back was an empty envelope
That just sort of fell down the street
I called my friends
They’re just machines now
Still as loud
So my head must still be asleep
I remember when I took Rand all the way
To your house
And near the bowling alley someone rolled out
A marquee
It said
you’d be missed
I had to call my mom to make sure
It was still today
I had to ask my therapist the same
Nobody remembers but
I use to sit cross-legged in church and fiddle
With my crotch when they talked about
Things like free will
Mom and therapist said
Yeah, you’re fine
Okay, so Ill get there
And you’ll be there
My car always did struggle over that last hill
Okay, I got there
But you’re not there
I was worried about cataclysmic
Endings
Black holes, suns burning out, sons burning out
Car crashes, glass on the pavement, broken bones
Thought about my skin on the inside of an oven
On the strands of a rope
Wished for cold lugged steel
Teeth marks
But I got myself
The machines
Unanswered questions about god and
From god
More empty envelopes
With post stamps from places
I’ve never been
And yeah, you were missed.