get back to work
June 18th, 2001I am antsy. I want to get out of this building. I cannot think and cannot breathe.
I want to get in my truck, roll down all the windows, put my hair back, and drive down a dusty country road… let the wind whip through my hair, let the dust combine with the sweat on my skin, and just drive.
I want to park on the top of the highest hill in this you-need-to-get-there-faster city and watch the sun drop off the edge of the sky… and wait… wait until every last drop of sunlight has moved on to someone else's day.
The body like soft serve, dripping down in the June sun,
I tried to shoot a thought, but the thought sunk.
Nothing to do but scratch words in the dirt and
Watch the water roll down.
