Excelsior

By George, I've got it.
Hey George, give it back.
C'mon George, I need it
Like a sidewalk needs the crack.

Like a blot on life, expanding
In a paper thin motel,
I sweat through muggy nights
In this Heimlich holding cell.

Everything you do
Is everything to me.
To me it's just remembering
The sweltering to be.

Like cigarettes, no matches,
Squeeze through the subway door.
You dance with swollen ankles
Kicking butts across the floor.

It's time to trade in mirrors.
To get up in the world.
Clear conscience ever clearer,
While your hair has lost its' curl.
​
Ok. Please don't be nervous.
The truth is hard to take.
We're always somewhat curious,
My friend, and always rather late.


4/1/23
ZONE S2E3