ballin'

too early mornings begin
with texts about ballin’
at Foster beach, it is just
cracking dawn.

someone’s heart cracked
long ago, somewhere between
the heat of an upside down
frying pan and the sting
of a slapped cheek

it is just another morning
after a night of tracing shadows
from streetlight ghosts streaming in
from the window, a night of wincing
back whisky or recalling the lover
who did that enough for the both of you,

and you think it’s not supposed to be
like this. or it’s just whatever it is.
one choice always seems like a good idea
at the time. all it takes
is one loose rock to fall—
I am wary of the very forces that crumble mountains
under our feet. or blame our peasant ways
on eruptions. fuck defeat. fuck whatevers
and fuck who gives a fuck.
nobody's talkin’
‘bout tossin’
in the towel. this just be
another dawn.