Knock.

I wake up early

So it’s a laboured day when you arrive

Other students wake

With their half-assed beards

Some roll up their sleeves…

It’s not a real days work

Thinks the long haired conductor, out dog walking

Knock

Knock, knock.

 

The postman is late again,

My inbox is empty and then

My street starts to shimmer

Big step. Big step. He wants to get thinner

Silly to think it was you

The yolky sky is infected by blue,

Tumbling in a causal pattern,

Something something something happen.

 

When you’re in pain

You want to tell the whole world

But I’m still here

Like the queen is still there

Like the author’s in the book

And your smile is in the chords.

 

And though I imagined a little memory

I have the capacity for self-reflection (really)

So the postman looks at me

And see’s every other student in this town

Every other Gen X-X

I might as well do a real days work

And ignore the pain

Till I remember you again

Knock

Knock, knock, knock.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: