Let’s just say that the town
has reached its boiling point.
Let’s just say it and forget it,
the way we’re wont to.
Stars and forgery breathe down my neck
as consistently as breakfast.
I can’t be the only motherfucker
who’s pissed at the way life
unfolded its wheezing accordion
to lay a sputtering polka on us all.
The fall is where the heart is, right?
If not in the descent, then maybe
in the point of impact, but
them’s just semantics.
Part of me wants to say I’ve heard
all of this in a Pavement song.
At least the part of me
that still has standards.

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