I couldn't have done a better job
Of falling apart, but that's alright
I fell with the grace of dirt
The trees bent red around me and

I should write the folks more ofter
Than I do, but I don't
And like a bottle spun loose on
The concrete I crawl

I spin my bottle down the tracks
It splits in half, exactly
I fall down on the pavement
The trees bend down around me

I take the subway back downtown,
Collect the papers we drew on,
Address the envelope to Mom