the grass is dying
in my yard.

when it was green,
with a barking dog,
a hose for rain,
I thought about
all the people I'd meet,
strange things I'd see.

dusk would come,
I'd never sleep,
the sky would shine
with laughing stars.

for every ring
that doesn't grow
in the backyard stump,
I lose more
childish hope

things are not as I dreamed.

high above
sit laughing stars.

I thought they were
different before.

now I see
they only mean what I need

so take me up
in a tincan ship
made of a desperate man's dreams

if the world can't be
more than this,
delusion is
success for me.