Christ in the Back of the Van
Pete says if Jesus were alive today
in America he’d drive a Greyhound Bus
and I won’t attempt to argue his theory because he’s much smarter than me.
But sometimes I do think maybe he’d be the same as us
riding across this country in the back of a van
with a sleeping bag and something to prove,
speaking to anyone who will listen and staying clear of bad pussy.
But what do I know? I am not selfaware.
When someone says, I Am that I Am
I reply, I know you are but what Am I?
Because fuck it. I’m drunk.
wide awake and tired as shit
in a Motel-6 in Jersey
I am lying flat of my back
staring up at the white ceiling stars
and listening to this woman in the room above me
repeating the lines I don’t even know these people
and Why don’t you love me anymore?
it’s like the chorus of a song
and the beat is her footsteps moving
from the bed to the bathroom and crying.
and this song goes on and on like this
and I think maybe it’s because I’ve been off liquor
but maybe it’s something much simpler
like sleep isn’t what I really needed tonight.
maybe I only needed to hear this song
over and over so I wouldn’t forget
how glad I am that I love you
and that I know the people around me.
Shivering with a cigarette & coffee
I witness a squirrel fall
from a tree
It’s one of those things you forget
happens until it happens
in front of you
Like this morning when I made you cry
You were holding our baby
It’s like the sounds a tree makes when it’s falling
the way my heart breaks
violent & mean and no one I don’t care
how strong they are
can hang on
I am driving hundreds of miles today
in the snow
and the hawks are landing on the median
with their claws out.
And I can’t help thinking about my first time
out on the road.
I was so green bums could see me coming
from miles away.
I bet I lost fifty dollars to them then.
But not anymore.
And that’s what I hate most about time
how it makes us hard.
Just last night I told this woman to fuck off.
What am I? Made of money? I have a family to feed.
See what I mean?
That’s why I don’t blame the hawk or the hunger or the weakness.
I blame the line.