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.


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.


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