Loganthinks

half the job of going to the job is the job of dealing with people

pull that social face from the hidden fat and wrinkles

today it didnt particularly fit

driving in sunbleached brown

along concrete oiled arteries

wiping the blood from picked pimples with reciepts mashed bewteen the car seats

sweaty in the mirror
missed some spots with the razor

the burnt yellow drapery hills undulating by
in the man-made shit-mist
advertise that they will soon pass from the familiar
into the unfondly reminiscent
and the iconic shapes

of the waiting and worry
of the faces i have to meet
and books i have to read
of the standards i wont live up to

the AM/FM
sing song melody
of the commute