Ode to the Homeless

Trying to kick the cigs
but the patch led to paranoia
as the watcher of my sleep
snoozed secretly as his cell phone
slipped from sad to sick,
every regret slipping into the dark
of my toss and turn,
rationally revealed
as the merely impossible existence
of mountains to be climbed
as the lady in leopard pajamas,
waiting for the transition light to change,
for the Latifa queen who left
telephonic computers
in the motel room
of her only friend
for the easy free electricity recharge,
moving on for another bus ride
to the Greyhound bus station
and the big bellied man with no shirt
sunned himself atop the highway overpass bridge
and a cluster of birds sang sweet warm winter songs
as the rising tide of crypto currency sank their boats,
the rising tide lifting some,
but all others drowned
and left behind in the tide

Boy oh boy, my boys and girls,
boredom is the devil to keep at bay,
and overstimulation rocked the nation
stunned into checkmate, mates,
and I gave my brown spotted black
Depot Bay pirate T-shirt,
stating, "The seas will be our empire,"
was given away to the lost Navajo
two days into sobriety
Boxed in illusion. Illusion boxed.
the citadel of concrete cracked
in harsh Southwestern light
filtered by the dust
of dinosaur remains
Got the psychiatrist on the line
as the eavesdroppers listened in
as they honed in for thought crimes
of me giving all my clothes away
and the arrogance
of the Brahman innkeeper
spun dry the mourning morning
Daylong you can her the la de da
of motorists passing buy
in the moving tombs
of wheels and metal and chrome
Horseman, pass on by,
since the walking dead
refuse to meet our eyes