i watched a
lady almost
hit her head
and die
at this bar
called the
sleepy hollow

It's all the same you wrote me pros before and now another time, without thinking about what you wrote before, when you called yourself on the phone but didn't ask to come over so you sit and you think about your name.

The skateboards hanging on my walls know my name. They know my shoes and my feet. The guitar on my wall knows my hands and my fingers. You only know me from my poems, or maybe you don't, hello my name is Dana Walker.

I play guitars in bars where drunk white trash women's arguments erupt into violence at eight PM.