i walk like a man but smoke like a woman
there's no telling of stories that hold
a man down to the signs that he's painted

i painted every fire hydrant in town once
it's my best work
gleaming silver, bright crimson red
in the summer sun

there are more words than these
there is pain
the abject mulchy smell of a bloody
world of low words
and the ice breaks on the river
every spring
you can hear bells in the town

here where there are stars
i remember walking to your house
your mother was upstairs
sick
liver sick from too many quarts of blue
and your dad had no teeth
and was a writer

and your slanted house up the road near the cemetary
had ghosts of it's own

i knew you and your calm face
big brown eyes that held
and your brother with a hand pressed
to his schizo head
blood on his leather jacket

we were called out to fight
that's the way it goes up here
i'm miles and years away
and i still want to go out
and fight for you