Deep Fried Daze & Fresh Fruit

we were hovering nirvana

bees do not make honey in the winter

so please don’t forget to find where the light hits

just picking what I want for my corporate slop

it’s lunch hour and my mind is a dust bowl

the subway train gallops to my next destination

even past the yellow line it’s still scary to see it coming

the rush makes me want to cry

i miss worrying about when the popsicle would melt off the stick

i wish insurance didn’t exist

my problem is that i don’t save honey for the winter

i suck it all up in the moment

and then what’s left in february?

i wish i could hop in a pasture

i wish i could be a part of something bigger

i see a young old lady on the train

she could be 60 or 23

she could be evil or good

she could age or get younger

she could get lost in grand central station with nothing but a mozzarella stick

spring is coming and i must make room for the tulips to sprout