Misplacing manners and skipping right to the cookie
Fortune
I broke bread
And found no slip of paper
No direction or thread
Which is why I wouldn't bother
Buddha
For a sign in the sand
Because a wafting dune never meant more than atrophy
And bleeding land,
But open a woman's legs
And I'll always kneel down to pray
To that same hollow place
No different than tomorrow's day.