what is that
that is not craft?
the time it takes to shake and bake?
the time spent coughing up a good laugh?
the time it takes to find a large enough room?
room for one?
room for all?
the time it takes to see June in December?
the time it takes to March to a Fall?
leaves drift down every year
dried up and dead in just a few
all eyes land in the gutter
while buds refresh anew
no, you don’t need an MD to bring back
your man from the edge
your jen from her pitt
here’s my option to hedge:
drama is just drama
except when it hits off in the street
you feel me?
’cause you do steel me
from passing the solid yellow line
from counting down the time
for when my tv guide is on hold
for when the story has been told
the knowledge of self-determination
the common source of a nation
the feet in the shoes when a toll has been hiked
“the ones i like to wear when i rock the mic”