HEAVY-LIFTER

Goodnight, Lions
Carpenters at the Gateway wave and borrow and make tanks for the move
More narrow steps include the drunks praying their way out of the bottle and into the hospital
Too late to change the course of disease in their gut

Maybe tomorrow I shall call on you, fists
There is a particularly unkind soul that shadows me in the office
A sour pill that fucks my nerve
And distracts me

Get away from my door
Your battle hymn
Good soldier, heavylifter, flotsam
You
Really
Are