Gravel Road

the wooden steps to the door
of the mobile home,
aching and resisting
the pressure you apply.

windows boarded by the smoke,
because you could never quit-
not for your lust for life,
not for your savior.

I sat on a twin size bed
and contemplated our nature,
listened to the PSA
playing in the living room:

"two dead, no trace of the killer
be cautious, be wary"
and I heard that,
but did not listen.

where were you?
in your room rolling a joint,
making phone calls to the county jail,
smashing bottles?

I'd take three hour long walks
just to live,
listening to music
instead of your echoing cries.