Made To Order

I don’t know what I left behind. I don’t know if she was true.

Maybe it was real. She turned her face away, the sky so blue.

Two lane highway, all the way to the Great Lakes, the border.

Empty drive-thru cups, scribbled prophecies, made to order.

 

It’s cool again, and my navy blue hoodie keeps me warm now.

I may have held an angel’s hand, squeezed 3 times, had a bow.

Navy blue was the celestial color of my first love, from heaven.

The Great Lakes can take me between world, eat bread, no leaven.

 

I stretch out among the trash, sleep on my pick-up’s bench seat.

I want to eat olives and bread, eat no other thing, no more meat.

Was she true after all? I would never have let her touch my face.

I am among a starry nowhere. She was born into her proper place.

 

 

 

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