The fruit on the blackberry bush are shriveled and black.
The gravel driveway has washed-away and then there is you.
The gutters are clogged and falling-off the roof,
Due to the weight of neglect, and then there is you.
There are a few broken panes that we covered with cardboard,
To keep out the draft. And then there is me,
Going over the bills at midnight while you are asleep.
There is the two of us clinging to each other to conserve heat.
The beer bottles are piled-up around the kitchen sink.
The screen doors are torn to shreds and wasting away.
The crystal meth is apparent on our face,
And there is no escaping the obvious truth of you and me.
All the apples have fallen and the deer are having a feast,
While Sonoma County Sheriff knock and grind their teeth.