i once had a job
where there was a great lack
of bullshitting
it was no perfect oasis
wasn't other wordly or even
all that romantic
and that's not to say people tried
somehow it's in our nature
these days
all these kids would come
get sent out to the desert
at any time of the year
sometimes in the middle of the night
and me and another
would walk out to some kid
some kid who'd pushed things a little to far
with the drugs or lies
some kid who was too down to get up
or broke windows and walls with fists
we'd say hi, tell them our names
ask them how they're feeling
make sure they knew how to poop in the wild
tell them we weren't gonna lie
and about the bullshit thing
mostly we walked around in big circles
talked about their lives
and what we saw in them
people were happy or pissed or lonely
sometimes elated about little things
or furious at the huge
how ther moms and dads could be assholes
and how life felt like a fight
just to get up some days
the best things
were around the fires
on cold nights that didn't feel cold
when you all woke up before the sun
and no one talked for awhile
people were too busy thinking to pretend
somtime i think of bullshit piling up
a sizable hill like a sand dune
someone's trying to climb it
keep up a life pretending
i imagine bullshit as the slipperiest of stuff
sliding down and down
to wherever the bullshit runs out
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