Won't Somebody Tell Me

He's almost careless now
fresh from the warm embrace
of a whiskey drink
caught talking to himself
by a young couple on their way in.

It's much warmer tonight
than seasonal, and he's slit a little
by the scimitar edge
of the waxing moon and
starts bleeding some

Coping with four situations
that put him in the high risk for suicide category
all at once, he flips the bird at the golden
glow of the sword's edge remembering
the brown waitress and his
own natural time winding down knowing
that Death takes good care of itself already

Drives himself home with Tom Waits on the radio
for a few minutes asking about the soul of a man,
speculating that a man ain't nothing but his mind,
covering Blind Willy Somebody.

Pulling into the drive way
he hopes to see her car there
remembers what that felt like
smells the fallen leaves in the
warm autumn night air