Walter

We sat on a beach on the other side of the world
Heads full of liquid paper and colorful thoughts of nothing but now
Pockets full of flasks of Fijian rum and bouncy balls that didn’t bounce

The blue sky showed its heels
A ceiling of mustard leaked out from behind the sun
Rain fell down, our imaginations soared

We sat on dusty towels as waves crashed inside of us
Four legs and
four arms and two soaked soggy little children on a beach.
Two faces headed out to sea

You left your faded purple poncho on a blackberry bus in row seven, seat C
Between a narrow aisle glazed with mud and hay
And a man who went by Walter.
I left my twisted fading unclear mind on a blackberry bus in row seven, seat A
Between a foggy finger-printed slice of glass
And a man who went by Walter

Sent back to the states with nothing but three months of bleary eyed memories and regret
There’s nothing worse than being broke and broken when you’re
seven thousand miles away from home with no money, a lost soul and no one to talk to.

A twenty hour layover and
a ninety day hang over and
greasy silver stationary armrests that make it impossible to sleep and
an animated, cheerful, obnoxiously optimistic voice that won’t shut up until it finds
a man who went by Walter
“Richmond, Mr. Walter Richmond. Richmond, Mr. Walter Richmond.”

I needed sleep, I needed peace, I need a phone, I needed food, I needed you
I needed something or someone to slow my thoughts and ease my mood
I needed a retractable armrest.
I needed someone to talk to
I needed someone kind
I needed that voice to find the man who went by Walter
To see if he’d found my mind

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