Wish i

Bagging my angst and
tossing it, compact and done–
And I’m done
With any holes or rousing rats
Steering wheel session, improvised
low time and then one high after wine–
Beat from the rock and hope the neighborhood
is waken, woken, I don’t ski this
morning in formality? So put the
ticket book away, sr editor
Lid on fire but a page or seven
survived, good, Aristotle throttle
follow me to Friday blues bobble–
House locked. I wait on stoop.