(tonight, for Trayvon Martin)
Smile. Spills happen. So do gourds and melons.
Horseradish, tomatoes. The wagon’s full.
Mind spills too, belches, drops alluvium,
swallows backwash. Pools. Moves on. Don’t believe
a gourd a day keeps Dr. Dead Wagon
away. Even if I sing it, even
if the thought drowns out the noise with a smile.
This happy song doesn’t want the long moan:
This living’s a strain/ Shovel the coal train/
Try to sleep in a cold rain. Smile. This song’s
trying to look up.
–from Overpass (2012)