Every Place Is A House

Knee at the bottom of the wheel

as a guide this thing was made to

be grabbed and thrown over the side

feet on the dashboard on the way

home clipping your nails like a metronome

Raised glass to cheeles and unfamiliar hands

Pretending every place is a house

and we are all blinking

as long as the point of tears is yours

the last laugh

this is an imprecise surgeor now

Taking part without putting back together at all

far from the middle

we listen to the sounds they make

the sounds they make the sounds they make the sounds

Crutches and canvas searching for windows and bread and

pretending every place is a house