Around and Around
Around and Around My tears won’t water this wasteland enough to grow sufficient food for even one bloated boy. T he right words slid in the right slots like a master- round of Connect-4 won’t keep even a single student’s mom from calling it quits while he lines up a free kick at an out-of-town tournament in Arizona. These games we play, carrying on because we must, because dust won’t do the dishes. Ashes, ashes, we all fall down. I t' s where the song ends but not, we're told, the story, and we go on reading like there might be an appendix for what comes after: laughter, grass in our hair as all of us stand up again.