Peter Twal



And my shoelace veins in knots      your hazmat suit
smoke break ending early      as you hold my hand
as I hold your hand as I drop      the anchors
from my pocket      We window dive, we skinny dip      the droplets
draining out      of your hair     I think, there's always a reason to let a ghost
bleed out      always a horse opera hero hoping to stage
a comeback in a primetime slot decades after its own      but if I could see
all my friends tonight, if you could keep the death wishes down,
then I'd sew tweed patches over the moth eaten holes in my
cheeks      Dust off this old head I haven’t worn in forever
Later, lower the radio to keep the slap of your sandals
in earshot      to admire the way you walk
into tattoo parlors naked, tell them                                                                                                          
I'll take one of      everything you got





This [song].