throwing pebbles at rocks
sons into fathers
sun raining droplets of
dewy waxy mist
all over the shag of my hair
there’s no goal behind my vigor
beyond simply felling dead time
one plinky little stone at a time
wondering how many more
plinks it’ll be before i can go home
sometimes i barely get a handful in
others, i’ve tossed a quarry away
but never set foot in the house,
he says
i don’t dare pass that line
so i will everlast at my duty
rocks against rocks
and wonder when i’ll
understand
why all these doors have locks.
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