Can’t Float Forever
the road back
is dirt at the moment
pavement sounds outdated
yellow bricks are irrelevant
destinations change
this trench stays the same
where I’m going is fluid
someplace with no definition
I’m not travelling empty-handed
a lot of weight in my backpack
this time
a hardcover
with all its pages
a dull butcher knife
splashed with rust
some gasoline
and a fifth of whiskey
extra sharp
the road back
will always be here
some feet
crumble too quick
others overstay
their welcome
I’ve seen a runner
turn still as a statue
shake like a leaf
then sink
drifting leads to static
treading water sometimes
sounds like drowning
I heard what they found
buried under his bones
old polaroids
loose lips
and a life preserver
I kept going
the road back
doesn’t wait
I’ve got a blood orange
in my palm
I’m trying not to
squeeze it too hard
but my fingernails
never learned to kiss
biting comes natural
disappearances are so prevalent
nailed down sounds comfortable