#7

Watching Out
By XII

When I came to the American South
I took my careful look around
At the blue bird pocket jacket
that hurts my sanctioned hands
Tread soft on the rocks that
break soft in the bay
The noises they made
They almost drove me insane
Nobody, nowhere can quantify this
A desolate coastline lipping our kiss
Large stakes driven into larger holes
Rattling around to find a place to settle
leaning on an opposite embankment
Tom Sawyer has a hickey and he's
looking rather sickly
But the ice caps melted
Mississippi flooded
seek shelter