Third Coast - Bent Shapes

Snow piled horizontal on the trees and fence

Thick shadows that persist after early sunsets

I told her «everything smart’s already died or fled.»

She said «let's ghost:

Haunt the deep-fried countryside south, till we defrost

Standing under the spanish moss on the third coast.»

But we’d be there that spring;

I’d told her I had a bad feeling 'bout it

She said «you get a bad feeling 'bout everything.»

Hanging like locks on the overpass

I held a cigarette up to the headlights below

So I’d know when to ash

I was quiet.

She’s right:

I’m learning too slow

That I’ll go nowhere fast

What a drag

Is this one of those things that I can figure out

Or just one of those things I’ll learn to live without?

If I’m waiting, I don’t know what for

Whatever it is, it don’t seem worth it now

Look how far I can extend my adolescence

I’m not sure, but I think that it’s impressive

That I can’t leave, head lodged in the firmament

Full-grown and struggling with object permanence