Tiny Prayers

Fifth snow-covered Tuesday in so many weeks
 Check the mail for the sixth or seventh time today
 Fold this mighty newspaper over and over
 Anxiety quelled by underline
 Tiny prayers to the coffee cups scattered all across my house My only measure of time
 In whose world do these accolades matter?
 I guess not mine
 My slow world spins the same
 Fully consumed with what my grandparents used to do
 A contact high
 Method acting
 Scatted like ashes
 Scattered like my old homes
 Scattered like stars
 After all that what did you expect to see
 Yell until you're blind and or all out of money
 Twenty-five Strummers and too many Ramones
 Like there's no place left to go
 I don't know what's worse
 No opinion or no thirst
 Or how I can't find a better use for my time