Death On Vacation

flying around in the attic crashing into the walls these dark angels never sleep circle games and bocce balls old men on sidewalks blind canes tapping faucets dripping iron ghosts, ghosts I smell the fear vipers fangs antique dogs barking cluttered rooms play ground to the dead I play rummy with them on Saturday night’s to try and keep the peace but they don’t like to lose nothing worse that two timing spirits they can’t hold their liquor and soon a fight begins I’ts a regular cowboy Saturday night with them peso cigars and tequila things usually settle down around dawn and they sleep the day away But come midnight they’ll be at it again. I don’t know why I stay here. I think it’s the cheap rent and transparency of it all They say life is just death on vacation but I think there’s more to it than that… But hey I'm still alive…I think