To Coats I've Lost,
Jobs I've Quit,
Trains I've Missed, and
Songs I Don't Remember How to Play
- Left it piled on a bus seat with the zipper stuck halfway.
- It was blue and yellow nylon from a charity box
- Outgrown five years ago but never thrown away
- Until now, that snagged zipper the last straw
- More straightjacket than windbreaker
- And the lining was worn out, scratchy and coarse.
- Shimmied free with groans and swears
- And left five years of semi-warmth behind.
- Cold-shouldered liberation, but a long walk home in the snow.
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- Handed Boss-Lady my rented gear and said
- “This isn't going to work,” when I meant to say
- “You're the worst human being I've ever met.”
- The man who trained me did bad Nicholson impressions
- And told me on the first day,
- “Most jobs ain't as bad as this one.
- You should probably quit and find one that's decent.”
- It was two days before I took his advice
- And I heard that he quit a week after that.
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- I've never really hopped a train
- Never traveled by rail, thumb, or ship
- Always scared to take the risks
- But I drive a car on streets packed with ice and others
- And sometimes I'll see a gap in the guardrail
- Where someone else broke though and fell fifty feet
- And think “If only he would have hopped a train instead.”
- Sometimes I'll walk to work because I care about the Earth
- But that's just the lie I tell myself when I can't afford gas.
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- I can't play any musical instruments any more.
- Schools tried to teach me violin and recorder
- Friends tried to teach me drums and guitar
- And I used to know how to sing and play
- “Mary Had a Little Lamb” little lamb little lamb
- But I can't remember a single note.
- Can't read sheet music or tablatures
- And my singing voice is like the strangled howls
- Of a cat in heat falling into a pile of thumbtacks.