missed direction
Dog-eared city streets.
I’m drinking whisky neat.
Knowing that I’m lost,
Trying to be found.
People hurry by.
They don’t ask why
All the good images
Have vanished from town.
Coffee spills near tables
Concealing labels
That identify the owners
Waiting at the lost and found.
The writing’s on the wall.
Someone’s gonna fall.
Just when you think you’re there
You find you’re nowhere at all.
Dogs sniff the air.
But they ain’t got a prayer.
The scent of scoundrels
Reeks all over town.
I miss the direction
To the big election.
Seems like natural selection
Has really been found.
Panhandlers gather.
City fathers rather
That they existed
In some theoretical town.
The writing’s on the wall.
Someone’s gonna fall.
Just when you think you’re there
You find you’re nowhere at all.
Holy men can’t speak.
There’s no Holy Week.
Children’s sailboats choke the gutters
Praying to be found.
Sale prices shout.
Everything’s sold out.
There’s no more bargains
Anywhere in town.
Identity dissolves.
Nature evolves.
Even when you find something
You don’t know what you found.
Direction’s gone missing.
It’s only reminiscing
That can put me
In the right town.
The writing’s on the wall.
Someone’s gonna fall.
Just when you think you’re there
You find you’re nowhere at all.