Oct 18 - Letters to Luna - Shot Glass

Sometimes you can put a pillow down

As you know you are about to knock a body to a floor

You can set the room; move the coffee table, or the night stand

Throw the goose feathers in a bag of parts upon the hard wood boards

Watches hit hours, hands strike midnight

Have to have a last call and leave some whiskey in the glass

Pound that column on the bar top for the tender to pitch to the sink

Sometimes a head needs the fresh air of street lights and car engines

That burn in the gut shifted from butterflies to wasps

The look in the other set of eyes is still bubbling honey and you are supposed to explain

Choice of words, how so, to deliver

Sometimes you can put a pillow down

Saves a lot of shattered metal, when the bones break

And a body gets up stunned numb racing out into the street

Gets run straight over like a tabby cat

Bloody in the hood of some other bastard just trying to make it home

Guts like paste drying like a neighborhood blood clot

Telling the officer what happened like point blank

Could have used a pillow mam, just a little cushion of elaboration

That the drink was not full of nothing

Makes a body give up living, dying a little bit each day

Thought the bottle had hope and it was nowhere, swigs of nowhere

Makes a man feel like the universe is all about filling up a shot glass

For just one sip; that is all a life needs, just one good sip

But women like you are like the reason the shot glass always tips

Always a reason, always a spill wishing for a pillow just once

To keep a few drops, to drink a few drops down and savor

Before the blood comes gushing from a body knocked out by a fender

Looking for his heart wailing at the moon