There’s a waterfall across the street.
Right next to the river
is a big white house for sale.
I want to buy it
and live there
forever.
Dog.
Truck.
Pistol.
It’d be nice if you could swing by.
This little town I’ve landed in
screams of abandon
and in its loneliness
proclaims something tender.
The air sticks to things and makes the light all thick.
The wood spits paint off,
made ill by the way it splits with the grain,
and warps somethin’ awful.
The pain all comes with a sense of awe, though,
and although there’s a question mark
I feel well in my sadness.
I feel a well of sadness.
The river makes sleep noise.
The state bird says things that are pretty.
At the risk of sounding stupid
I’ll write sweet things if I want to.
I want to.
So it all comes back to my baby,
sweet as mariachi bands,
tough as nails,
making me hot for things simpler
than what love used to be.
Making me knot for things
and fray for you to be
all tangled up in awkward ways
and my limbs.
I love you.
Thanks Chase Bauer for this great site. Seems like there\\\’s always something new I learn even after being in the field for 10 years.