DAYWALKING

F, 8/22/2025, 08:58

Dear Timmy Skelly,
Please let me
Water my mother’s
Garden in peace.

I heard you sing to a crowd,
Recorded and posted online.
I was sitting on the toilet;
You were sitting on a gold mine.

We’re all resting, sedentary, and
Letting others entertain
Us from the hills
Of North Dakota.

Passed through Bismarck
With my new wife
And another degree
In English strife.

Four years in New York
Kept my restless bones
Occupied and watered,
But now they’re stones.

A wedding,
A honeymoon,
Apartments packed, and
A real long drive.

I’m traveling again,
But my feet are stunned—
Can’t I come home without
Feeling this urge to run?

Moving to another town,
Unsure of what waits for me there.
No prospects, no job, no connections;
Just bad references and bully bears.

No telescope to tell
If the stars are aligned.
No crystal ball,
Just trust and guts.

No old woman seer
On a mountain
Who eats iguanas
To tell me right from wrong.

Holy Father in Heaven,
Water this garden.
Rearrange me from the inside out.
Show me where you want me.