Ramblin’ Billy
I’m sleeping without dreaming and then
I’m awake and the roses smell lemony.
not like real lemons but lemon-scented.
it sprays on and leaves a film of itself
and wiped-off there’s an artificial
scent of lemons.
the wood it leaves behind has a false face.
it looks like something I’d skate upon.
but I can’t skate. I’ve never tried.
lace-up high-tops with long, looping laces
and at the bottom, fierce metal blades are attached.
who would take the time to think of such a thing?
let’s just wake the fuck-up in the morning,
drink a cup and head to the ballpark.
let’s play the game. let’s get dirty. let’s slide
into second under the tag and let’s be safe every time.
