A short poem.
by Marcus Jonathan Chapman
I’ll die of exhaustion
tired of being alone
maybe head to Austin
forget to bring my phone
Throw on grandpa’s sweater
we had the same frame
drive until I wanna stop
look for something tame
No clinking brick to weigh me down
to wonder if to smile or frown
just stop for gas in dying towns
give knowing nods to wayward clowns
Stop by the road and find a tree
jot down the words, say poetry
throw my pens and pages in the back
drive off and think of what they lack
Distract away
her ringing words
“I’ll call you later”
later
later
later
later
later
later
And I’ll keep driving
until I get to later
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