Life,
the odd sock
the rocks in your head
the rod for your back
the blacks and the whites when
you needed the stripes.
Life,
the sweat on your brow
the wonders of why
and
the asking of how did
it get so bad,
barefoot but not sad
not mad
just odd
life is the level
the devil and
disciple
every rod on the road that I walk
the language we talk
the bottle we spin
the times that we cry and
we laugh,
sometimes sin and
if life is the end then
let it begin
oddly.