Patti
I can’t drag my ass up
to figure out what’s up, to dream big, to herald anything
of significance (who goes where? Who cares?),
to decipher weakness that culminates
in nothing but broken glass.
There’s no broken hearts; they come later.
It’s Christmas you think, shouldn’t we get along? For the sake of the season
since we ourselves can rarely find a reason.
It’s as good as any.
I cannot do any more today than look at pictures of
Patti Smith and try to figure out how to get my
fire lit.
Like this:
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Wow – lyrical