He's built his share of houses
Framing for wages
Working fingers to bone
Erecting wooden structures
He tried to be a poet once too
Adorning repetitiously
The blank page like he was
Cutting stair stringers
He was finished
Before he even started
Tagged by fate and labeled
A misfit... doomed for rejection
With run and rise inconsistent and no
Fit stair to climb up out of the depths
Rusty Nails
Seems he caught the business end of a claw-hammer
Up beside his thick head last night
Would have killed him too, doctor said,
Except he partially blocked the blow with his left hand
He woke up after six hours, sixteen stitches,
And two magnetic imagining scans for brain damage
Determined his oversized melon still intact
He knew his own name and remembered the hammer
So now his big head is bandaged and his left hand
Is cast in plastered gauze up to the elbow
The girl he was fighting to defend rushed off scene
Driving his assailants new dark blue BMW
With a personalized vanity tag trimmed in gold
That read: Thor's Toy!
The Southern Stair
Winter's coming on
And I need to be moving
Head back to warmer air
Down the Southern stair
Good soles on my boots
Rucksack's sitting light
With a little luck I'll find
A freeway ride tonight
Artic breath, wind with a bite
Like our last conversation
Frosted around the ends
With a killing freeze in motion
I'm headed for the Miami lights
I'll be fine when I see the ocean
