That night we
decided that our streets led nowhere,
so we followed them any place.
Apartments
to grass outside the Molly Brown,
cracking faces, sidewalks, traced our way...
North on 7th,
getting warmer.
Inverted frowns
are getting larger
Now
I'm wondering if these
half-formed
flimsy, brittle life-plans
and
half-drained,
dented, warming pint cans
of Schlitz
clutched inside our fists
suggest that it's worth it
To pin our hopes on approaching
footsteps of Summer?
Or just halt our frozen
progress through the Wintertime
when we reach your front door.
We just kept
decoding all our scrambled rambling
'til we'd set the world on its head.
Keep walking,
keep laughing at our young mistakes,
sober night backdrop to beer soaked breaths.
X'd out eyes
and gravel sidewalks.
Bozeman Autumn.
Watch out, mailboxes
'cuz
We're wondering if these
half-formed
flimsy, crack-filled answers
and
empty,
drained, five dollar pitchers
of Pabst
humming 'neath our caps
will help us draw our maps
and stick a pin in the Summer,
page turned on Winter,
or just melt our thawing
progress to another time
when later days trickle down.