Knee at the bottom of the wheel 

as a guide this thing was made to 

be grabbed and thrown over the side 

feet on the dashboard on the way 

home clipping your nails like a metronome 

Raised glass to cheeles and unfamiliar hands 

Pretending every place is a house 

and we are all blinking 

as long as the point of tears is yours 

the last laugh 

this is an imprecise surgeor now 

Taking part without putting back together at all 

far from the middle 

we listen to the sounds they make 

the sounds they make the sounds they make the sounds 

Crutches and canvas searching for windows and bread and 

pretending every place is a house