Kalamazoo

I loafed there with my nose not book prone

which was basically never the clouds hurt 

my stupidity if that was what it was a bowl sans fish 

I liked looking in on life but the slow shadow 

descending clouded my head my judgment 

even justice stirring alive the question 

Would there ever be a lover in the mix the soothing 

answer to no question just the quest not equestrian 

but bounding forward toward a destination

Recalled as oak trees dry lines of code 

the road withering gray so little say-so 

parched then drenched in pain (the rain)