I reckon

one cold frozen night

when the thinkin

gets to be a problem

you can run me outside

don’t leave the door open

see if I can work my way

back inside

& if not

well then

surely the problem is solved

I don’t want to get

be like these

sittin in traffic mind all closed

wonderin what

those yellow blinky lights do

walkin around

forgettin their street shoes

let age be for those who want it

got their own

yearnin

for achin grown old bones

I’d rather be remembered

bright as a button

shapin my life

not headin downwards

soft in the belly head

everythin a strife

a burden on those I loved

forgettin their names yesterday today

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