The sirens woke me up again

I know their coming for me someday, just a matter of when

Count to 25 and yawn

Touch the clock and turn my back against the dawn and hope for,



That one dream

Of hardware stores with checkered floors

and buckets full of nails

Or floating effortless, over the apartment in a boat

and rowing past the office windows



Mother, Mother may I cry

Father will you teach me how to die the right way someday

I don't want a second chance

to turn my stuttering reluctance into romance, with these



Documents and kindergarden anthems

with my drunken liturgies

Tune the FM into static

and pretend that it's the sea



But four words fumble for the microphone:

You should have known

You should have known












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