Maybe Again in Mexico

Finally August rain Against dry grass crackling When sticks break I can hear her clacking Chasing chickens Off pages At last August rain And fried bass choking Let's remain Against stained glass and coffins From here, you look painted Saintly and frustrated You were finite then and brave Now faintly like the plaintiff Defending the feeling as it fades Sleep through my appetite, Oh lord, let me be beautiful tonight. Gasping and teary-eyed Reflection disappears as the toilet bowl fills with bile Masochistic nostalgia It's easier now that things have changed Barely recognize the doorstep The backyard still looks the same. I am the woman in the flooded basement Immense weight of nagging unfamiliarity Backstreets, names and faces That I once described with some semblance of clarity. How did it all get So frail and frightfully irreversible? Pretty women don't light their own cigarettes But here I am What am I tirelessly working for?