PEACE-PIPE
I'm bringing all my knots to an unfrazzle
lately, and I'm not sure where to turn. The
neon-character fellow I used to know seems
so different now. Because it's not a frazzle,
I really can't draw it all back in. Though I like
the silence, and welcome even the semblance
of rage, my iced-up personal woes start running.
-
I walk with untied laces, my clown-shoes flopping
around. The noises out here are made of nothing
but dog barks, and they grow tiresome too. Same
old same old. If I was Indian, my walkabout would
start right now; my peace pipe thrown in the lake.
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