Saber Truth Tired

These headlines match your patience
Short, filled with foam, anxious
There are designs on the horizon
To make you feel close to golf
Close to the gulf
Closer to god
There are wagons and eagles
Even an easel in case you want to paint a still life of toys, breasts, blankets
Then you reveal your true nature
You shove off shore
With a might heave
And let the pars climb
Let the oars drop
Let the prayers do their job
Then again in September
When the rains come
And you're lonely
For Sriracha
Before it was famous
When you were clever
And cable knit was looming
Sandals were adventurous
Sleep was a place
With these long hard negations
We draft our finale
It's a leather bound casket that smells like eucalyptus
--
8.30.13

Evening Dispatch

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