happy hollow

stand here lit at the end of the day
the sky‚s on fire, and the fire‚s at bay
and the bay is full of the strangest ships
happy, hollow, haunted, stripped

when I had nothing I wanted less
no navajo rug and no organdie dress
only the time and the wheels and the rhyme
some food in my belly some kick in my wine

lie here low in the small dark dawn
got your facts and your face and your mittens on
got your fevered breast and your breaking waves
happy, hollow, heavy, grave

when I got a little bit I wanted more
sixteen walls around me instead of just four
hungry for things I did not even like
wake as if from a dream pushing a cart down an aisle

walk here light on the afternoon
balanced like an egg on a spoon 
you're a tightrope dancer, your cane and funny little hat
thought you had all the answers
caught with your pants down
how bout that?

we don‚t know what simple is
can‚t leave well enough
tear apart slap together
neither convinced nor tough

pity their hard scrabbling
they scorn us for our pity 
how like children we must look, stubborn, coddled, silly 

sleep now still at the end of the line
trash blows about and the buzzing light
bad dreams full of war machines
bad dreams full of war machines

©2002 Myshkin