It's a bad **** day here in
Texas.
The winds are hot and it's
starting to rain.
I cant find my coat. It got
lost at your funeral. Now
my dry cheeks are wet
and i cant see where to go
The cracks in my face
are artificial.
The frogs are jumping after
phantom bugs, drugged
on the arid silence
I dont know how to do this.
Alone is an art form. No one
said it was Easy. Willie's song
playing in my mind like a
jumping blue frog in the desert
that has come inside
I crossed the line too late.
All of your self is in the
pillow i no longer use.
I think i will read through
the afternoon. I can always
Cry in bed.
Tomorrow is another anniversary.
Caroline Shank
1.9.2022