On the US Treasury

spies remember when
your name was just my pen
spelling out the ways it might have been
and how this love would end

now, now it's hard to talk
'cause my mouth's been dry from drinking this off
sleeping in the clothes you left under the doorway
our best laid plans get tired in our old age

best laid for the next day
oh it's too late to impress me
best laid for the next day
with a bouquet full of dead seeds