I REPEAT MYSELF

Looking back on old notebooks
There is so much that doesn't surprise me
In this grey almost mayonnaise
I think about Spring
My favorite time of the year
An ecstatic tremble like the way a train feels
But in my gut
I am Secaucus
Tunnels stretching from state to state
Endlessly
The resonance
Feel bad
Don't want to feel bad
Feel bad
Don't want to feel bad
Original as a clump of dirt