He would lie so low in the grass
That the sunshine
Would miss him and move on to the next
And he was just some song I wrote-
A poem to pass the time
A sculpture made out of clay
That I threw to the floor
And someone else swept away-
Just an excuse to slam the door
And he would lie so low in the grass
That when it rained
He would seep into the mud
And stay there until the sun
Could not touch him,
Could not reach him
And the rain would cool him off
And he was just a tragedy,
Another thing to talk about
In the hallway
Of that apartment we both hung out in
And when it was all said and done
He was but a strategy
Used to pass the time
As the sunshine dried up all the mud
And the rain filled the outline
Of the body
That used to lie there waiting

-excellent poem