Tuesday, November 15, 2005


I don't have a whole lot of interesting thoughts today
but as I drove to work (yeah, I usually walk, it was
raining and I'm ass-lazy) this song came into rotation
on the stereo, and it just hit me like a train to the soul.
It made me feel all arty - I even wanted to just take
the day off work, play cards with sarah, and drink
chamomile tea all afternoon under big blankets.
If you have the chance, take a listen to it. You'll
know what I mean. Here's to some thoughts that
are not mine.

Garage Sale. Saturday. I need to pay
my heart's outstanding bills.
A cracked-up compass and a pocket watch,
some plastic daffodils.
The cutlery and coffee cups I stole
from all-night restaurants,
a sense of wonder (only slightly used),
a year or two to haunt you in the dark.

For a phone call from far away with a
"Hi, how are you today" and a
sign recovery comes
to the broken ones.

A wage-slave forty-hour work week (weighs
a thousand kilograms, so bend your knees) comes with a
free fake smile for all your dumb demands,
the cordless razor that my father bought when I turned 17,
a puke-green sofa
and the outline to a complicated dream of dignity.

For a laugh too loud and too long
For a place where awkward belongs
And a sign recovery comes to the broken ones.
To the broken ones.
To the broken ones.
For the broken ones.
(Or best offer.)

website statistics