Satellite

I wish I had the right words

But I keep on fumbling, stumbling over hills

Like missing hundred dollar bank notes

I pass out my pocket

Like leaves from a tree in fall

Waiting for a winter that wants to answer autumn’s bellows

Snow balls melting in my hands

Is there anything I could give you that matters?

Dissipating candle light and all the things I thought we might

One day get to talk about, but my thoughts choke on doubt

That my actions subtract on contact

In accumulating error of consonants and vowels

Ringing out like drenched towels of miscalculated syllables

Plopping against the floor in an alphabet soup of chocked out wrong doing

I tend to impersonate a solid citizen for moments at a time, but

Somehow slip into the inebriated habits of a sober troglodyte

Kicking over tin cans filled with diamonds bowling down sewer grates

And using lottery tickets to wipe at fissures in the dyke

Wet with seepage with hands praying in mutters

Just one homonym away from the exact speech of the proper incantation

To summon my savior.

My city crumbling carrying this back pack of lead

Rising with cauliflower ears concave in centimeter away satellite dishes

Just out of reception azimuth or degree of sincerity to hear the percentage

Of bantered conversation that would allow me the intro to play

The magnetized cello concerto to draw your attention in a tractor beam

Of rhythm and dexterity where you do not collapse in a cacophony of laughter