then

just wait til i
can find my shoes
i'll go home
then down
to the river
at least where
you can
push us
in hold
our head
under water
with all
its voices
in cold
syrupy
silence streaming
past consciousness
or then
again
we could
go
sell
balloons right
off the street
maybe
if we were
twenty
years younger
we might know
better what to do

hold our own
head under water
until
they come
we will
still one
that put
us in this box
we chose to stay
with ruined faces
maybe we oughta talk
one of these days
again