Burned Shoulders
Isuzu
Isuzu rests aside of the citylike a boxer sleeping in the ringthe family's heirloom keeps calling from the bathroomthat the phone ringsthe bathtub's running overyou're in a metal construction rolling for coveralong rusted barb wiresseparating hatted men from their cattle moanswith a passport that expiredhours agothe belt straps you to the seatwinter on the tapedeckthe car's driving for hours and dayswhen your scarf tucks you in like a babyall you can do is sleepwith the coffee and the road mapswith the news paper and in the trunk our backpackswe feel like the goats on the side and in the guttersyellow outlines of the road are shepherds in our headsin our hearts in our guts and lower
From Letras Mania