Notes

I pick up pennies in the street, I don't care if they are dirty
I sing songs where none exist
I cannot speak before coffee
in the morning
even when prompted
My optimism is intransigent

Nothing will ever matter to me
more
than this town
not even you
But don't take that as
bad news
It just is

There's a month
or two
or three
when winter buries me
and I will not remember my
name
nor yours
It's okay

Come spring I will
drown you in
flowers
in sunshine
and the giggle I save
for special occasions
and here's the thing
You'll be it

I am a hundred degrees of ridiculous
(I know)
But I am one degree that makes sense
It'll make your pieces fall into place
And I think
you'll ignore the
copper coins
then