look at these worn out shoes

look at these worn out shoes
by Ryan Buynak
Old Jazzy Star and Night Nick in the glass sky
were catching a plane to come east to see me
and Country Luke or Mick, or as I call him nowadays, Lightning Bill…
with days open wide…
was there, too, already.
beers beneath the sea.
stupid idiots with swollen feet.
I am the type that drinks with foreigners, and forgets.
horses draw faster until woodpeckers see us coming.
from ten years ago.
we all grew up playing in the valley.
but that valley was flooded
and we all scattered like spiders.
I dance my bike til I learn how to learn out candles.
the cyrpress trees so high and the swamp was pretty ugly.
now life is beautiful and we live so close that we probably sing songs the same.
but Francis the Friend that can’t see lives west with old rocking chairs named Gentry.
that’s a good night coming our way, inspired by bees and claws.
years from now we will remember this bachelor party,
for old kids with goodbye hearts and damaged livers.
look at these worn out shoes.
the devil is three stops behind us on the subway rumbler,
and the angels are just passing through.
there are holes in the roof and stars rain through,
and stick in our sleeping bag legs.
but I pull mine out, and clean the blood off, and bring them to you, muse.
too bad we are
normal people with normal knees trying to be better people.

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