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.