You tell me I am the store clerk
in this company store
I am the one with the yardstick,
a symbol of authority, you say
but one I never used to measure
my own faults or even measure
the thread you used to catch
me in so many knots

You send me away with a few
extra inches, a mind crammed
with outrageous hope, and a
checklist of unanswered questions
dandelion in hand encouraging
the dust, a beat up rusted hope
in the middle of a fallow field

You never thought I'd backtrack
did you? tripping over that pile
of threads, my foot caught in
the center, a prey through
a scope with laughter on
the other end

Again I tell you I need
to know more than I need
to know you
I need to know the glory
of winning a war I once
thought was ridiculous

(And when I look down
and see you have dressed me
in a fool's garb you say not
to worry because looks
can be deceiving
and what the ****
do I know?)

The truth will reveal itself
in a slow and sly burlesque
flowers dropping their petals
**** and unbearable and
when the answer comes
to your lips you will not
know how to say yes
your mouth pressed
into a no and the rest
the rest, the rest