Nobody's homebody, he melts on the road
like a Popsicle dropped
sick with sores in his throat.


Finds some lost leather proverbs
asleep in the mud
where my empty head had left 'em
'couple pulses short of blood,
nearly choked on the truth
with wooden ears and swollen tongue.


Not a pinch of relief
for dusty rubber teeth;
make a mind hate it's grainy brain
half-baked with sleep,
while the other half lay caked with wasted belief.