999 Z85

on a bicycle
island off the coast
cigarette ash on my chest
pass the joggers
the mothers with their children

all my years
sit on the pier
on a ledge
casting lines out
with thick rope
and I clutch my sanity

the winter is tough
snow in the plains
I hear the dogs
foxes crunching
beside my window
and I clutch my whiskey
put candles around my bed

I tell my hands
keep quiet
and she comes over
and I falter
like an autumn leaf
forgotten in the spring

she calls me a Salvation Army
lover
a throwaway passion piece
and you can’t disagree
with that logic
I would leave for a hot meal
and a woman half crazy
if she promised me love

oh shelter
oh shelter

oh shelter

I’ll come home