Battle I Find

older than strokes of luck
tried hands hold drum for
broken buddy through corners
it is the stop that gets to you
strikes close to breakfast together
the day we left for albuquerque
starts with the same prayer
the suck that smoke takes now
at war in the sides of the skull
down to four drawn cards
where three differently angry men
wait at the mouth of suburban waters
here, in the only brave act left
crash in the race to meet the sky