unwanted and rudderless
on another underground Sunday
flub-dubbing my way
through the weeks
the months lost
like episodes of shows
I don’t watch anyway
lately few words come to me
fewer thoughts stay
landing for a moment
on my wires
then gradually
but inevitably
fluttering away
my hands
the only birds who stay
busy doing other things
driving cars
flicking lighters
rarely touching anyone
mainly holding tight
for another
friendly fire fight
the train I’m on rocks
and roars me through
tunnels dug by
dead men