Hey, you.

Come here and put your arms around me.

Shelter me from the coming storm.

Just until it’s over.

You seem like the kind of person

that can keep me from blowing away.

Afterward I can pick through the debris

for two mason jars and something strong to drink.

You can search around in the battered books

for a dead author that understood.

I’ll find a couple of lawn chairs,

and you light. . .

Damn. I’m out of sugar.

I’m out of cream, too.

I’m out of milk, toothpaste,

ketchup, toilet paper, and batteries.

I’m out of strength.

The day became too heavy

And I just can’t lift it any more.

Leave the night to someone else.

I’m out of compassion.

I’ve looked around in all the

Cupboards of my heart, but I can’t

Find an Indian tear.

And just when I think

I can’t get any emptier,

I. . .

Damn. I’m out of sugar.

I’m out of cream, too.

I’m out of milk, toothpaste,

ketchup, toilet paper, and batteries.

I’m out of strength.

The day became too heavy

And I just can’t lift it any more.

Leave the night to someone else.

I’m out of compassion.

I’ve looked around in all the

Cupboards of my heart, but I can’t

Find an Indian tear.

And just when I think

I can’t get any emptier,

I. . .

1. 

2. 

3. 

4.

5. 

6.  

1. 

2. 

3. 

4.

5. 

6.