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Ambrosia 13

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You are not from here, my dear
You could use some help
Ironically my ethnicity said I was from here
But twenty hours on a plane
Leaves one easily misled
Still I trotted to the end
Of the longest line
Another blue-tweed wearing clown
Said, "You a Yank, there."
And I turned back around

I am not here for a show
Not here to see anyone I know
It just seemed like the place to go
Despite December's ice and snow

The studio has wracked you
Back and forth, left and right
And would it were not so the truth
I like the searing pain when cauterized

The winter tells me I'm alive
I can feel cold bitter, I'll survive
When 27 came and went and
Not much writing done well
Nor playing spent
I worked my way through
As a many praying

As first I lost my athletics
Or so they'd say
And lose one after another and another
And so many along the way
But I could never have ever imagined
That so many woul a fall in this very way
But I'm still standing not for
What was in my day

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