Parachute Kings


we fall to the sad candle Earth
like songs with seats
and handkerchiefs
on better days
before noons
holding autographs as our only souvenirs.

clouds pass us by
like tourists refusing to enjoy our danger.

this old dark machine
has been here making dogs
since the beginning of time.

made my own town
to explore.
orchards and all.

we can't go back up
to shirts and years
with open beers while riding shotgun
to lessons listened to
with tearing ears.

glad to hear it
the escape while winter comes
and forgets me
catch me if you can.

protect us from the madness of the future.
I wear a hat
and land in a market
with smells and planets.

we start making sense.