Curves
Curves
I could have been
One of those boys
Who spun out
Of control into the green
Arms of the woods
That catching them
Killed them
Like boys bad
At taking hooks out
A year later
White crosses make
Younger brothers brake
They get where
They’re going
Which is to say
The rest of their lives
As for that road
Men working
On dying say
Trying to get a rise
Out of the bartender
That road’s one hell
Of a good woman
Curves for miles