I could have been a rat, rat a tat tat.
I could have been some
impressive wine garden,
the syrup of your smile.
Denial leaks like mountains
from the camera lens.
At night wild dogs or hyenas
make mad dashes through the backyard.

Dallas Cowboys won again.
Guess you were right, my Texan friend.
Where's my smile line trace the fold.
Where's my fault line start to bend?

Bending down, crooked and
with angst. Plunging
down into some dismay.
Whatever is your doubt
I'll set it out.
I'll separate the stains.

Petty grin with a box of gin,
And I can't let him in.
Used to be that you always found me
with a weight to break my spin.
But I'm going out just like I settled,
with a black bandana and two tons of metal.
Screaming at cars in the canyon I pass;
Freedom's a fifth and a full tank of gas.