tinder box

the bike thrown onto soft grass
spokes wound with twine
flash
a blurr of yellow wind
my guess is that
you two
are confused

driven on by goodwill turning
this mother has
a broken agenda
can it be a burden
my personality?
perhaps the wind changed direction

the foreman takes a dive
it's the ocean
not the sea
the current holds oil
and it takes twelve men
to get a beer
one holds a fist
close to his gun

resolve
refuge in duty
sang while speaking
tired
sleep comming on too fast
a moment to drift
again
resolve