Rescue Me

Rescue Me

The 7th ring
ends purposeless
as much
as it began,
a broken
open number
as if torn
from open hands.

No echo
on the mountains then,
no crashing
moonscape sands,

The only sound bite
given then
an unsaved
broken land,

Rescue me,
rescue me,
repeated then
and then again,
just rescue me.

In pouring rain
and desert dust,
on streets
of brick,
and cars
of rust,

from shore
to shore
and open range,
just rescue me.

It's just
as bad
to grab the phone
as is
to let it ring,

for no
experimental plane
can track
the voice
that calls within,
rescue me,

intoxicated life
and limb,
just rescue me.