ninestars

No matter what, it will get better.

I go through weeks like I do sheets of paper, or hair ties, or poems. 

I use them all up but I can't remember what I wrote. 

Years are like that too. Someone asks what I did last Monday 

Tonight, stars are falling,

Over Chicago, New England, Texas,

From angry east to angry west,

Dark cars: hearses that we don't call hearses

Roll silently towards lively, warm houses,

Walking through an art museum, 

reading all the signs, 

try to trace back the thought process, 

paid parking's outta time, 

leave with paintings stuck inside my head,