i sang it all the way down broad. an 8 hour shift turned into a 15 hour shift, which turned into a 16 hour shift and still i can’t get you out of my head, and as the rain thickens, washes away the sins i’ve committed with scarred and bleeding hands,  invigorates the pain in my knees. sores whose roots deepen to stop me from running, so that i may walk, to stop me from walking so i may limp, to stop me from limping so that i might feel the pavement like we felt the grass against our faces ages ago. 

i owed the cabbie ten dollars and 28 cents, i gave him 20 bucks and told him to keep me the rest. i’ll have nothing left to show for after years of faithful service, but for that moment in time i had a smile. we take of our own.