tinker's cart

misery and company, tin can clatter.
o scummy rumbuddy, the tinker can't matter-
he's just another soul, here, but not hereafter--

all that's good i gave you then.
my blood and tears and voice and pen.
and i am left behind from them;
the man you took away from them.

sensing sweet relief,
i take 100 steps away from me.
99 and 1/8, i am to the tide line,
still and walking,
decrying signs.