the grass below

on the cusp of the year,
whiskey, beer, wine,
cars humping cars,
in a long traffic line,

salt stains boots,
the economy slows,
work thins out,
free time grows,


free time, me time,
re-evaluate and put it in perspective,
why does every choice have to be so selective?

is there a perfect route to take?
a perfect plan to make?
image of success,
appearance of achievement,
do I want another piece of this plastic cake?

I'll try to get by,
I'll try to push through,
after all I'm getting pretty good at getting by without you,

hard road behind,
rough road to go,
what turns the snow yellow,
waters the grass below.