Roadside stumbler, airport wanderer
Low profile keeping, front porch sleeping,
Gypsy of the night
Long, lost, last flight
Tumble weed in a hurricane
At the end of the finger
When there’s no one left to blame
You can’t understand lonely
Until it’s part of your name
Loose lipped soothsayer
In need of a psychiatrist
Spewing out his lives’ stories and worries
They fall upon my pre-occupied mind.
A drama queen trio explodes in the background,
Complaining of beaches, and parental lack of understanding.