Like a smashed possum
On the road is how I look and feel
Hair crushed to the temple
Sweating in the blood of worry
And despair
Little possum soul
Rising from the ground
Saying looky here
How I find myself dying
At the crossroads
Of a very short and somewhat
Stupid little life
The elm and pecans
Didn't protect me
From the stumble and
Moment of anguish before
The fall
In the second of the crunch
I prayed to them
Last night
To the tree spirits
And the worry gods
And the sappy happy fairies
Living in the backyard of my
Obsessive mind
I was playing a flute
And swimming down a chute
Facing an awesome and
Ancient god's face
The whole time wondering
If she'd catch me
With her tongue
Wrap me in a blanket of lace
Possum soup?
Or Possum soul?
Who cares
I feel like a smashed up possum
And a despised one at that
Caught rummaging through
Your cans and your textbooks
And your hallways and stupid
Little minds
Little possum in your classroom
Lecturing on days of doom
And observing your own faces
That communicate daily
The message of gloom
Little possum
Dying on a golden morning and
Yesterday's rainy day
You have been disconnected.
Austin, Texas, Nov. 19, 2000
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