My wife is lost in Amsterdam
Received a message from someone who knew me
Back in the day. And I am wondering who she is and who I am
We sit listening to the train, rolling past all day
Wants and needs get in our way
I am sick on this rhythm jungle gym thinking
It’s only the ninth inning, bear witness to the giving
Thanks, to the saints, proceeds go the doorway
Out the wolves mouths, into the subways
Doors slam, no entre, they say. Go away, they play by play
Stop dreams, like a goalie, and I wish I was a superstar
In a fading mist, no one knows me,
The sound of the dust growing under the record needle
Scratches my back, heart beats, like a baby needs feeding
Meat is a melody, I will feed you.
Water is a dime in a jukebox, drink it up
And when your done with supper, never go under,
Never give up, when the rolling thunder comes a calling
And we sink down to the bottom
Smoke em if you got em, till it all goes rotten
Listening to the hypnotic chorus
Of a time forgotten.
Chaos in my windpipe, clogged, still breathing.
Seething for air, dreaming of demons
Subsiding like the seasons.
Jason Wright is the editor and founder of Oddball Magazine. His column appears weekly.