Colin Dodds
Same Place Twice
We’re all day to dayand a day or two behind
Doubting God, but trusting
the double yellow line
Ain’t no secret I hurt
Ain’t no secret I care
I hope New York is dark
when I get there
Drought or deluge
Virtue or vice
You can find refuge
But rarely the same place twice
Deep in winter, in the folds,
the tvs filled with grim, hysterical men
determined to make the center hold
No more freebies
No more whistles and bells
I got used to something
I’ll get used to something else
There’s rhyme or there’s reason
And they say I have to choose
I hardly know which way I’m leaning
I’ve been so misused
I’m no Beethoven
and I’m no Socrates
All the wisdom I have,
I got in a robbery
Now my body is a rental car
and my home is a hotel
Somewhere the Buddha
is laughing like hell
Copyright © 2014 Colin Dodds
