i am okay

walden freeman

believe me, baby
i am all out of words
i am all out of ideas
my poems are phoned in and phony
my love letters are carbon copies
let's walk along the molten streets
of shore towns
and plan to fester;
overheat in steam-filled rooms
walk outside to see
a delivery of mirrors
to a blind man's house
poorly painted and maintained
wish the wells well
rust coins elsewhere
try our luck in the gutters
covered in dirt
we'll be alright after all