Palmer

Slightly confessional


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Palmer

Going to work his small dreams die
Strangled in senseless morning cries
He aches for friends he hasn’t called
Quickens his pace for boss’ sake
Thinks of father and squandered time
Unlocks the door, punches the clock
Regrets the lips he could’ve warmed
And blessed are none says Palmer
Deals all day with fuckers and worse.
Shrugs as radio rants for wars
And rent goes up by twenty bucks
Fears the boss who prays to Jesus
Lover’s a chain he cannot break
Two jobs maintain his bind to time
They shake his faith in humankind
And blessed are none says Palmer
Night is laced with starlight and drink
Faces, voices, he cannot think
But dreams arise from gripe and grope
Visions of days he has not lost
Lips touch his and carry him off
Nude he wakes in an angel’s bed
Hails the morning and floats to work
And blessed are all says Palmer