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rhys langston - to be specific (a short story by muckraker jones) lyrics

“hash tag, f-ck hashtag,”
said the arab sinbad
as he strolled down the plaza
de la zona de amistad
messenger bag
all he had
a decade of poetry drafts
puddles from the last evening of rain
his feet splashed
recollected on the night
inside the arms that wouldn’t hold weight
to be specific 166
(a conversation until daybreak)
pate unshaven at the gate
he waited

security check, totally random
mistook as a weapon
inside his wallet, the card of fate
on then were his shoes
to begin the walk of shame
a misnomer’s what he thought
sought to file change of name

but he knew language wasn’t his to own
and neither were the trees that stood before him
all arranged in a poem
open mouth of the path that
triangled before him
the route to a cage
that reminded him of home
unzipped further each step
until a page fell every second
wind bowed the surrounding branches
their dead, white cousins beckoned
flat and inked, externalized mind messages
all on behalf of one man’s worst

too early to be open
the shops’ windows he peeked in:
the mannequin’s naked breath
harked his self–ssessed sins
he
wanted no goods
no id matched his new background
listless, sound
resigned the notion he was profound
he met her downtown
the jokes quick
effacement of any nervousness
his memory spurred, the curb
his first tears dropped, closed lips
no capacity for “f-ck it”
self-blame stopped his feet
knees buckled as
he spit silence

a ceiling above
away he swept the covers
surely overslept
screwed dreams
adding another entry
to the log book
he thought it was crooked
his neck
on rising that gave the pain
the fall came
mind’s reminder, placing the time frame

and then there was her touch
his name spoken in
the voice of a crutch

looked up
rang through his head
their eyes met

her at the edge of the bed
she said—

- rhys langston lyrics

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