Captain's Log.

A Reflection on Rugs

It?s just a worn out, old rug

Harboring cartons of ash

It?s got these stains like bed sores

Wouldn?t sell at the thrift stores

So let?s leave it by the road

And pretend we won?t miss it

The flea market opens soon

We?ll have a Persian by noon

This time we?ll take care of it

It might last a while if we

Keep our vomit down at night

And hold our smokes real, real tight

We can put it where you like

By the door or in the den

We?ll vacuum it every day

While we sing that all?s okay

Back on the Wagon Again

I still wish for whiskey dreams

For liters of Jack and Jim

A spacebag straining its seams

Solo cups filled to the brim

I want to taste the Yukon

Toast with bottled royalty

I want to share my futon

And forgo all subtlety

I need that liquid courage

Not all Leos are lions

Because we?ve all got baggage

Not just bottles, but sirens

This mast won?t hold me for long

I can feel the bonds fraying

I still hear that sweet, sweet song

Sorry dear, I?m not staying

More to come in the future, possibly.

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