Death On Vacation
flying around in the attic
crashing into the walls
these dark angels never sleep
circle games and bocce balls
old men on sidewalks
blind canes tapping
faucets dripping iron
ghosts, ghosts
I smell the fear
vipers fangs
antique dogs barking
cluttered rooms
play ground to the dead
I play rummy with them on Saturday night’s
to try and keep the peace
but they don’t like to lose
nothing worse that two timing spirits
they can’t hold their liquor
and soon a fight begins
I’ts a regular cowboy Saturday night with them
peso cigars and tequila
things usually settle down around dawn
and they sleep the day away
But come midnight they’ll be at it again.
I don’t know why I stay here.
I think it’s the cheap rent and transparency of it all
They say life is just death on vacation but I think there’s more to it than that…
But hey I'm still alive…I think
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