Southbound

Invisible physicians, lawyers, and magicians.

An instant of existence at the table in the kitchen.

A flood-lit, floating highway,

Headlights slicing up a pathway into the driveway.

Drop me a line when you finally arrive on the runway.

Southbound train-track traveler

Add another film roll, quick, into the camera.

Grey lake paint-stained body of water

To the left of the runway.

(Drop me a line when you finally arrive on the runway.)

I got lost in Egypt,

Wandering around the figurines a hieroglyphics.

Paintings on the ceilings,

Colorful in contrast to the sandy statuettes.

I read the book of the dead backwards

And then I made my way to someone with a name-tag

For directions to a staircase.

I climbed a flight an realized the century had shifted,

I was awe-struck, gaping at the walls

I floated through the marble halls

Like some dis-jointed memory thrown across the room.

(From) back when I pumped gas, red shirt, black pants.

Drinking in the bathroom, heading for a heart-attack.

Never looking up from the sidewalk,

High-tops pounding out a beat in the pavement

(they went)

Yes, I'm a little bit wasted.

Just like a six-string, I sing only when I'm pressured

Or when I'm alone with a rhythm and a reason.

Heading for the season of the winter coat,

Heartbeat heavy as a suicide note.

Yes, I'm a little bit wasted;

Nevermind, I'm fine, walking in a straight line,

Trying out my voice for the first time.

Grey lake, paint-stained body of water

To the left of the runway.

Drop me a line when you finally arrive on the runway.