Drifter

i long to be warmed
by your touch,

where the thorny heave
the curve of
rootless souls,

a blacktop
loneliness
engulfed.

a vagrant gut
a troubled
young,
growing out of
skin.

until such time
as i
have lost
control

and asked
for you -
guess.

don't leave me lying there
with scars
and germinated
memory,
diminished,

to take root
in the fields,
to ache.

instead
just make a day
when broken rules,
profession's ties
have drifted
leaving faith to stay.

hold it
hold it all in
an hour of
the day.