I’ve been through 
the wringer once 
twice maybe more 
for Christ’s sake 
I’m dry so 
dry in fact 
that my life 
is now a
permanent press what
to do now 
that I’m dry
as dirt and 
the only wrinkles 
to be found 
are on my
face admitting a
well lived life 

Sometimes I feel 
like a dirty
mop just pushing 
around the same 
old dirt from 
one room to 
another from one 
place to next
even a fresh
pail of water 
doesn’t really help 
so on I
go moving memories 
around hoping to 
find a corner 
in which they 
may actually stay 

A lover
I need 
to wipe 
away the
grime of
day to
slather me
with affection 
as though 
I was
a piece 
of bread 
and he 
the jam

Sometimes no matter 
how hard I
try nor how
often before I 
have I just 
can’t seem to 
find first gear
so I sit
here idling in 
neutral in my
driveway all gussied 
up with places 
to go knowing 
I’ll never get 

Far away 
I go
distance between 
some things 
best left
unheard for 
most things 
will never 
be unsaid 
if you 
want which
you won’t 
I’ll be 
there for 
here is
for you