For Andy & Others

Restlessly, endlessly in God's borrowed

office swivel chair.

Cells eating cells in what is now

considered society's trendy curse word.

My heart stops for a moment,

who says you need a drug of choice?

It wakes up my organs to start digesting something

with more of a purpose

and I'm here.

Here for that midnight Monday phone call.

Here for you to tell me that ten years

of this won't look good on this here

skeleton

or its withering skin.

You send me a funny pistachio in the mail.

I send you midnight grief. 

My brain begins to leak.

And there you are.

Wearing a corn suit in a desert of few trees

in need of daily painting

up bright and early for

God's unforgiving orb of fire.