Spitting Flies

I sit and spit whole flies on a dusty floor,
nothingness comes close but I soon reject
Particles are disturbed as the flies soar.
now, I believe those parts get my respect.

The day didn’t start good, soon got worse,
to many parts of my life keep shrinking.
Not as if we’re given a chance to rehearse,
why does a widget in a can get me thinking.

the heat is an emotion
like the fluid exertion
roll over and inhale
the burning shit
aroma swirling above
the buffalo hay and
buildings scattered

dried mud flakes
on everything
we are mummies
of canals where
everyone crawls
slowly

the roads mined
and everything crushed
by the forty eight tons
of the tankers

thick american diesel
exhaust

well ya'll/you’ll be enticed

what ever you may say
i shall entice you one day
the charm of a woman
none can resist
no matter how much
one does persist.

I will entice you one day,
if it is not today,
at least
some other day

with all the experience
behind my years
i know by now
only a girl can do
without any fear,
no matter what her intentions be
her lover that can never see

static distance
collapses into
a front seat smile
along the road
somewhere
past even caring
a reconnection
lost to time
recalled in a song
by someone unknown
yet, somehow he knows
my story
the whole sorry story.
me
and lost love
sung in 12-bars of ironic blues