Joe Grieco
OVERLANDER’S LOG
Even a river can take a wrong turn
Got me sidetracked on biker highway
lying down for bragging rights in tall rye grass
even hometown lawns with flat-top cuts
drink the rippling energy of earth in early spring
Leaning on the quayside wall
the sun dropped like a sailor’s pearl
the moon yawned like tired pup
My eyes watched you walk by in floral print all dolled up
My mouth fed on the contrail of your oxygen
Even rain drops can drown a man if his mouth is open
Drinking in a drunkards’ tavern
swapping stories with dropout sots
Me, preaching how light travels in waves like a river
or in quanta like raindrops
but never in both forms at the same time
Me, talking to logs
they missed the whole point
It’s not the solution that we seek
it’s the absolution, the bolt of slake in the thunderstorm
Me, with a backpack full of all the concrete pieces of
our past
Me, with no rightful bed to sleep tonight
with no time to spare
I traveled
just to go somewhere
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