Linger

The windows all are broken out
of a beat up van abandoned in the desert
and the scorpions are already moved in.
There’s a spaceship in the living room
and the grandparents don’t know
what to do but keep on saving money
in their pillow cases.
That old stallion won a hundred races
stuck on both ends of the odds
and met the gods that day it’s heart
gave at the finish line.
She drinks her tea with shaking hands
and looks at pictures of herself,
when she was younger and her hair
had so much light.
They hear the deer run every night
from a creature they’ve projected
from their dreams; just like the headlight
beams we scan over the painted lines
in front of us as if our minds
were loading destinations.
Out in orbit in the station they eat
breakfast in mid air and cannot care
about the surf today where all the fish
have gone away and the life blood
of the fisherman goes blue from all
the pressure in the wake of them.
I can admit that there are things
completely wrong with me
and also see the good where it is lingering
and wanting to take over.
I stand with all the makers of mistakes
shoulder to shoulder at the mouth
of this deep cave we all are swimming in
and when things begin to slip out of control
again I’ll give my soul to buy another day
and get it right this time.
I swear I’ll get it right.

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