Or sunday morning?
A bit of both
Not enough of either,
I decide
The moonless black
Doesn't argue
So my thoughts press on
I'm somewhere between
Tulsa and st.louis
I think
Does it matter?
Not to me
I look to buildings
That line the night
And wonder
Why do i like those
That are one story
tucked neath maples
With a light or two
As opposed
To those knowing height,
Life-prosperity?
they seem, to me
The girl
No mother wishes
For her son
A place with a curb
I might have a smoke on
Without getting shooed
A place stray dogs meet
To make
More stray dogs
The big four story motels
And physicians homes
That flex their walls
in diamonds and pearls
Have too many
Everythings
And not enough anythings
For me
And the stray dogs
Just too much plantation
For trespassing
Gypsies like us
I've now run out of saturday
And sunday haunts
The dawn
Maybe near wichita
Maybe not
Does it matter?
Not to me
On this moonless night
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