Composed 29 January 05
I collect broken hearts
put them in a coffee can
on the windowsill
with the blueberries I'd picked
in my grandfather's backyard
bitter sweet sweet berries
and lost wandering hearts to match
catch the sun on the sill
until by the sun I'm drawn
to the Sound despite tides
against my favor reaching back
I still go in, the waters call me
But broken shells tell the tale
on the bottom of my feet
barefoot arches couldn't elevate
past the cut crunch tearing
of shells on skin
Frozen yogurt, and I'm fixed up
in the bathroom, some mercurochrome
stinging into flesh, leaving
ruddy redness one shade deeper
And I look at my coffee can
and the berries smile knowingly
watch the tides
and maybe you can outrun
a broken heart
but only if you don't
have a cut up foot.
