Vines - Trails and Ways

All I’ve ever carried is commodities:

my parents' silverware, Thom’s plastic trees,

some records of good taste, some heavy crude,

lots of future artifacts, and here’s some old news.

I am a container ship, your vines all up in it.

Want you to grow me over, and take me,

and take me down.

Want you to tear me open, and take me,

and take me down.

I was taking on water when I

saw you first.

Y

our drawn notes, how you raised

your hand—a lesson in thirst.

How you talked me past my limits,

and left paint on my bed—a con-­

tract open-­-­ended, and best left unread.

I wanna make a last voyage, before you let me rest.

Since they sent you home to Minas, I’ve had a hollow chest.

I wanna smuggle you in my hold, to water without state,

make an island we can live on, and live without freight.