She was the kind of girl
That seemed off balance
Without a beer in her hand
One arm slightly longer
Than the other
Head permanately tilted
To the right
The Car rings like an old telephone
The heavy air almost deafening
YouTube is mad at Facebook
I slept at the old Smucker
Farm last night
My pillow was full of jelly
I dreamed all
The lost phone chargers
The clean canteens
And fancy face soaps
were back with me
I swear I felt that bird
In my hair
Came swooping down
And nearly missed the car
Sad people who don’t
Know how to eat
Like every meal requires bread
Trying to soften the blows
Of the many Passing days
Hot sauce nightmares
Tickling the squares
Everyone has a shady side
Blowing smoke up
Our own asses
Romanticly using the past
Dissecting our
Cancerous butt lungs
We cough up the fantasies
All over our children’s children
Schwervon! 