i  wake  up  in  the  afternoon  
after  a  morning   of  not  sleeping
 ‘cause  my  feet  were  cold  
and  i  turn  on  the  radio  
and  hear  the  announcer  say  
it’s  a   beautiful  day  in  buffalo  
i  think  of  all  those  before  me  
who  walked  away  just  to  roam  
it’s  a  pulse  that   moves  us  or  keeps  us  
it’s  a  rhythym  you  cannot  own  
half-­drunk  and  half-­said  
carries  words i never wrote  
and  i  never  meant  
all  these  replacement  words  
they have  no  heft  
only  stark  reminders  of  what  we   have  left  
behind  beneath  between us  
it’s  the  space  i  needed  
we  could  pull  at  each  other  
like  this  all  day   long  
lobbing  back  and  forth  our  reasons  
for  our  own  secret  songs  
but  baby  when  the  sun  go  on  and   disappear  
we’re  left  only  with  ashes  
made  mud  by  our  tears  

so  i’m  building  a  mud  brick  house  
a  new   place  to  live  
change  all  the  locks  
and  pour  a  drink  to  forget  
how  much  i  hurt  you  
and  how  much  i   changed  
and  how  all  of  our  lives  
have  been  delicately  rearranged  

at  the  end  of  the  day  i  scrub  my  skin  
watch  it  swirl  down  the  drain  
and  beg  to    start  over  again  
it’s  that  dirt  under  my  nails  
that  i  just  can’t  rid  
so  i  wait  for  the  poet’s  moment  
when  i  will  finally forget  
that  night  that  night  i  heard  her  sing  
was  the   night  i  knew  i  needed  
to  start  untethering  

so  i’m  building  a  mud  brick  house  
a  new  place  to  live  
change   all  the  locks  
and  pour  a  drink  to  forget  
how  much  i  loved  you  
and  how  it  felt  when  i  stopped  
and  how  the  words  that  i  left  you with  
fell  heavy  
like  rocks