A Well of Tires
MATTHEW MORRIS POND
We live for parking lots
And waiting around for no reason
Guilty for nothing
Nothing so subtle
Onlookers make up a strange herd of listeners
We have been here before
Aligned with the blankness of buildings
Shifting and halting
Taking a half-step
Constantly mumbling is making a comeback
The patterns keep proving that all things get better
All winter
The backs of heads make better friends
All winter long
There is a well of tires
Outside South Strafford and Sharon
Repeating the nature
Is coming together
Take off the next place to get through the weather
I've seen the records
And all things get better