I was digging through my notebooks to find something else, but ran across this strange verse.  Its either just an angry poem or the germ of a country song.  Not sure how it came out this way exactly, but there’s some juicy bits in there. Some food for thought.

It was written some lonely night on the road when I was truck-drivin’ – who knows when.  Probably propped up on one elbow in the bunk of a semi cab sleeper in the rain. Actually, I like the rain and I don’t feel like this anymore.  I’m still looking for the other story, but in the meantime here’s a lame ramble.    Here’s to unfulfilled potential and ex-wives.

Kitchen Table Drunk

I never did nothin’

That carried my weight.

But everything I started,

Was gonna be great.

I’ve always been good,

At spinnin’ big plans.

Never stopped to wonder,

If I took any stands.

Then you came along,

Like a bird on a fence.

I went along with you,

Without meaning or sense.

I gave it all to you,

There ain’t any left.

So we bide our lonely time,

Kitchen table drunk, bereft.

I was orange, yellow

And red, you were tan.

Still I shoulda, coulda, woulda . . . .  been a better man.