Excellence is a short sentence.
It's the half step up to a major dryad,
the most dull inconcieved creature of western mythology.
Don't run too fast while you're slowing down to keep up with ideology,
turned the corner of a phrase and found the caldesack
where we used to toss a roygbiv hacki sack
between new wave hippies and philosphical discrepencies
we kept in back pockets of ten year old cargo jeans
I wore on the train car between Arkansas and do you miss me?
Threw salt over my shoulder
counter clockwise three times to the left,
you've always been my right
to leave me
but I'll smile and find you
right where you left me.
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