first you gotta eat.

first you gotta work.

get in the F150 truck,
the dust maker.
don't crank the music
too loud
cause you know
that, as an
escape venue
don't work,
same as nowhere at all.

you hit what is
a dry patch.
mostly stone,
pebbles and
way too much
concrete,
ribbons of white and yellow
making you crazy, and
you force yourself to

settle down,
get it organized.
only a matter of time
then when it's calm,
the itch,
can't  be creamed
or suppressed,
want to write,
you are afraid,
why and what
might,
will come out.

you proud, not loud,
you are the dust maker,
you will make your dust,
when it is time when
life is just a little less
dusty, or dusty enough,
don't matter, either way,
to get it straight,
the crooked will out.