Wet Paint

There’s wet paint everywhere

and most things are hanging loose

I turned a folding hand into

a full house; jacks over twos

I have hurt myself on every

little thing I’ve tried to do

now I return to Dylan demos

Nineteen sixty two to sixty four

Tomorrow is a long time, and

only if my true love is waiting

the road keeps snaking on, so

guess I’ll snake on home to you

An endless yellow field stands

where a sunflower once bloomed

I catch its seeds for empty pockets

so they may bloom where I fall too

May wet moss reign and bloom

where minds runs out of juice

I chuck my chips into the river

to collect interest for untruths

- Afton Light, 2022