Contender

I walked in there earlier under the awning
looking for a replacement chain for my old saw,
now long gone, out in the shade of some pines
rusting from the fog. If we could make paper
out of anything I would fold you up
and keep you as a bookmark here caught
in between the pages with just the scarce light
from the window for the words.
There aren’t enough blank lines
in the address book for any more friends
to be made until I upgrade to a new one
I can’t pay for with the gravel in my shoes.
All this time the news is running pictures
of the past like it is happening again,
and all the football teams
are barely even trying.
You couldn’t get someone to touch a helmet
for what it’s been worth in older autumns
slipping off the table, taught with time,
that games can change for something
even better.
Stop looking for icebergs in rain puddles
and taste the antifreeze mixed into them
so green in their reflections you are colorful.
Let the girl in the flannel dress, that looks
homemade, wait in the shade
with just her keychains as a compass
to get home with.
Your ideas about the world are not the sum
of it because the world had nothing
real enough to stand on before we drew
a line across it, as we lost it in
a pile of apocalypses no one ever
even thought were in the running.

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