You cleaned your room.
Pinned maps of your hometown up on your wall
And we sat outside.
I couldn't tell if it was early spring
Or if late fall had come back around.
You played soft songs on your boombox,
And I said I didn't like them.
When I got home I wrote long lists of goals on my arms,
Watched the ink bleed into my skin
Forming the rivers & roads of the Saint Mary's Township.

Now there are pieces of myself scattered down Mercer Avenue.
There are pieces of myself I don't think that I can lay claim to.
They belong to the corn fields,
To the Methodist church,
To the bait shop.
They belong to the short drive past the state line to Willshire, OH.
They belong in my father's teeth.
In the throats of the boys, yelling from their trucks.
Sometimes we loose skin that exposes our hearts,
But we keep saying "Well it doesn't hurt that much".

I exist as skinned knees from 2006.


The sister song to this is "Saint Mary's River" which is a song my punk band VYVYAN plays. www.vyvyan.bandcamp.com


from At the End of South Washington, released August 13, 2014



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Garrett Walters Bloomington, Indiana

Hanging out around town. Working more than I mean to.

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