The Fires They Are A-Blazin'

This is a poem

Long overdue

Like those library books you stole

Those warped blues records you buried

Just to prove that cancer is a killer

I am a death threat

Baby

You live like a storm

Fading to frames of a disaster film

Buried so deep into the wet sand

I miss you more every day

Even if my hands are tied to debts

Electrical fires of accidental love

The winds of changing guard