Ambrosia

Looking for the Win-Win in all this wishful drinking
got me thinking that I ought to pray in wordless groans
and be fed ambrosia by the doves
but they’d hold me to what I said once;
years or hours ago, I can’t be trusted- only thrown
I keep spinning my wheels
maybe nothings gonna change
I keep dreaming about the sheriff’s kid who I used to chew Skoal with
he was cruel to the other kids just for fun
I always sought them out later on, but I never had the stones to tell him off
he died alone years ago on a golf course with a gun
and I’m here spinning my wheels
maybe nothings gonna change
Time was, I could stand up straight, but I lost my balance with the ballast
weight
cast over the gunwales, overboard
I got nothing left to push up against but this imaginary resonance
starting at a spot on the opposite shore
and despite our sins we would not sink; we were
buoyed by some brackish grace
our mouths like an ocean drink, we salt-shone in the sun
and the grackles learned the car alarms
keeping all the neighbors warned
and lovers armed
I do believe we’re going down.