I could use an overcoat if you can spare it, and also a lantern. a bible that isn't underlined and a bridle that doesn't hamper. A place beyond the georgia pines and an ark that's not a sampler. something sent to recover me that doesn't have such high standards.
I could use a pink rabbit phone call, and a new carton of cigarettes. a stronger stomach for adderall and a covering of innocence. a safer place to be sifted in my Sunday-scorning best. a morning train to Prospect and you pressed against my chest.
I could use a softly spoken monologue on the ways that I've been missed. a letter from my grandparents and an unrepentant kiss. an open-ended empathy towards my winter-ridden sea, where I've been drowning in an ounce of blue dream and learning how to breathe.