Oh the Wells Fargo Wagon
Tying myself to one rail of a set of railroad tracks gets me the same results as tying myself to the other. Swapping one chemical fix for another is like changing my socks in a rainstorm, nothing dry will come of it. Not seeing potential harm does not eliminate the harm. Like a child with my hands pressed firmly over my eyes I yell, “You can’t see me,” and run headlong into disaster. Whether the train comes and makes a mess or not I make my own soup Ducky and must get on track by staying off the rails.
Go relax on the porch of your imagination
When I run wild through the rain
My hair streaming behind me
Water fleeing my face
I see with my heart
The thousand other rains
Pouring from my past.
How I peel from me the soaking luggage
Covering my naked pain
Nothing drives me to the cozy retreat
Of my bed like the humid chill
Of an early fall drizzle.
I slip my trembling skin between the comfort
And the comforter, flex my toes,
Towel my hair, wipe scenes of lost love
From my pale, pale soul.
Leaves rush my gutters, clog my mind.
I see the change in me as I turn heel to heel.
Trees spinning bare in a blank wet world,
I know this ever relived fluid, recycled life.