It wasn’t Black Muddy River sounds that reached my ears there.

She was like a driftwood Skelton, drinking from the empty plastic night.

I fit into place like a bag of nails on a long car ride.

I began to believe I forgot my ribcage at home the way she looked through me.

The view from the balcony was beautiful but to have to look through my eyes was painful.

With chlorine swimming pool eyes.

This constant contact with concrete I’d rather for go.

So bounce a bottle cap off the sliding door and into an open cooler, think of something clever to say…

“I’ve got business here like a sea captain in the desert”.

Words find me while I look for a raven in a crowded sketchbook.