GROUNDED
doctors leaving for the holiday season
got crystal ice picks no gift for the gab
and in the parking lots
is the sedan he bought
he never complains when it's hot
he fowled a swollen daughter in a sauna
up on Tucson ridge
there soaking up the fauna doing blotters
I don't know which
boys are dying on the streets
I know the medical world could knock you out
sell the coins that you jayed last Thursday
dine by candlelight and hold your savings tight
you'll never know when the bridge falls apart
you spoke of latent causes, sterile gauze's and
the bedside morale
trapeze around the table talking sentences so incomplete
boys are dying in the streets