Shadows on the fog left me wondering.
Two feet outside my door,
just not ready to go in.

They’re leaving the center
of a shitty motel with plastic bags in their hands.
A carton of eggs, maybe.
Maybe I’m not ready to be.

Think I just waved to a stranger.
Think I just found my old smile.
Think I am living in circles.
Think I am losing my rhyme.

Silence when it rains leaves me wondering.
Two feet inside, I snore,
just not ready for leaving.

They fade on the inside.
If I get down, I can see two knees under a door.
A carton of blues, maybe.
Maybe they’re not ready for me.

Think I just waved to a stranger.
Think I just thought, ‘it’s my friend.’
Think I am walking a straight line.
Think I am what I intend.

Broken down near a city that I broke down in.
Couldn’t have lived through how it seemed.
Strung out lifetimes shuffle through a parking lot.
What I watch now was never a dream.

They’re so far gone.
They’re like an old song.
They shuffle ‘til dawn.
They shuffle and struggle, can’t leave.
Mental movie reels shot from the corner, by me.

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