I was on my way down anyway
when I finally reached your floor,
got stuck in a rubber bucket,
couldn't take it anymore.
By the time I reached the basement
and tried to remember my name,
I realized life's a circus
and we're all feeling 'bout the same.

"While drinking beer from a bottle,
green olives from a jug,
I love my Honey like a lizzard loves a bug,
I love my Honey like a lizzard loves a bug."

Old poems ride with me
like old friends remembered,
bouncing along in this collapsing truck,
some lost and found behind the seat,
others weeping and laughing all the way to Raleys,
wondering how the corners of our minds could ever
have gotten so crowded and then confused,
so crowded and then confused along the way.

Between the blotter and the keyboard
I recalled the images of my life;
some passages remembered,
some spilled forth like accidents
or best intentions from the past;
some too hurried through,
but most that linger still
like the blotter and a rose
still remembered from
the past.