Modern Arrangement

It’s hard to say what I mean

Harder to mean what I say

And my feet get calloused and sore

Running down railroads each day

My chest beats an SOS

My brain gives a cynical smile

I lay down but sleep’s being stubborn

I reach for a phone to dial

My fingers can’t find the right numbers

To connect from my mind to my eyes

The pertinent wires are severed

They spark from hellos and goodbyes

I feign virtue and patience with fervor

And I sweep through the crowds with ease

My inner-elitist is cringing

As I shyly bend to my knees

I think maybe it’s time

To suck up and not pretend

Someone get a signal

“Mayday; Houston – Come in.”