Oversleep

The woods here all are decorative
surrounding houses not forgotten
but concealed from almost everyone
who’d find them since they’re looking
for a reason to come over
for a little while longer.
Cell towers that don’t do anything,
but act as meet up spots for birds
who can only fuck when falling
from the summit, stack up
on the horizon as if holding up a curtain
in the background of some scene
the play forgot about.
No one wants to stowaway on the trains
because there’s no where left to go,
and the conductors leave their hats behind
with no one there to talk to now for miles.
All these competing styles are just copies
of the older ones who lost and thought
the world had all but ended, but the truth was
more like something they pretended.
We take for granted all the green that
somehow blends into the seems
that hold the teddy bear together.
Rusty school bus graveyards
at every other highway exit
with at least one dog left behind
to keep the metal where it should be,
in the ground where all around
are only weeds
I talk too quietly when I know that
what I’m saying is important.
You could probably drown me out
with almost anything; a crying kid
who’s all alone, the ringing of a telephone,
or the echo off the back wall of a cave.

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