Dead Husbands

Faucets leak another tomorrow, pecking my shoulder with excuse me's. Always being asked directions to streets never heard of..... I choose silence over- postscripts bargains and ordeals. I embraced tributes to dying plants,future fatalities with bruised Gardenias. I should be dancing on fire but I forgot to bring a date. apart of me is walking down an ugly street where silence is not permitted ,while the remainder part of me reminds me...... that last times are first times gone bad. meanwhile....windows wear the shirts of Dead Husbands.