Just...
slightly left of centre
left out
close enough to be the heart
but somehow miss the beat
two hours from everywhere
and miles away from anywhere,
the poor kid, playing keep up
born with clay for feet
always talk of " then" we had it
looking back to when they had it
never knowing they'd lost it
lives
falling out of time
the big town schemers
throwing
small town believers
against the wall
whose bricks
pot dust
and marrow
bind
No comments:
Post a Comment