on strange days I wish I smoked cigarettes
I feel particularly weird on strange days
like my skin wants to vacation
on strange days I take the music box out of my pocket
then play it for my nostalgic neighborhood children
as they run through summer time sprinklers
feasting on cheeseburgers and french fries
humming to the key of my music box
drugged by this warm summer afternoon
on strange days I stare at blank sheets of paper and empty ashtrays
morning knocks on my window telling me it's time for bed
time for bed I say on this particularly strange day