I’m waiting for fate to hand me what I want
Because to go out and grab it shakes me to grey
And I retreat. I want to wake early, before the world;
Get the bus, work. I want to write the feeling
Of changing seasons, that which excites
And fills the air with sweet leaves falling.
I want to know the names of streets
And follow them like a natural dance
Not having to look forward in a white shirt and tie.
And I want to rock and roll – but to write is to
Be safe. And that’s easier.