Songs of the Weary
Our sisters have left home
broken places wait for us
Allen Ginsberg says, "Yes,
howl for us,
we are all prostitutes".
We are all prostitutes
on dusty highways
torn pockets won't hold all our marbles
and they fall to the floor
clacking like crows.
Clacking like crows
our voices have gone hoarse
as we pretend to be classy
and buy cheap plastic furniture.