As Lost as a Blind Man on Vacation by himself

Middle of the country written all over my face
With a magic marker
And well bred too
Like an expensive dog without
The brain damage

Over-Educated odor drips from my pre-owned shirt
Off the placemat
Onto the air
Errors I put on to impress you
I Spit in the face of the convention
His name is wind
Touch it for the purpose of knowing it
Just as I suppose most men do

I will tie myself to a classic beauty for forever
Shortly
Only without the growing up part
To have and hold hands with
As long as we both shall live the dream

Humor masks my intensity
Like make-up on a bad actor playing a cheap whore
Victim of the middle child syndrome
Having my sights set on failing least
I maintain the breath for the stretch run

I wasn’t cut out for this
In fact I think it was more of a falling out than a cutting
An absolutely flawless falling
A bowling ball and a feather in a vacuum
Somewhere in the space between my ears.