All The Rest

Talk yourself to sleep.
Count out, on fingers and toes
how many gold stars you keep on your ceiling
and how they sparkle off gleaming kitchen appliances.
We all nod our general heads
pretending to listen.
Pulling your hair back, out of you’re warbling mouth.
Insisting the importance of the galaxy
is pouring from you’re teeth.

All the things you heard in the 60s are irrelevant.
We are intuitive beyond knowing.
When we chatter we are solitary,
heated heavy heads with eyes on fire,
skipping lunch to reveal rebel missions.
Surpassing the mundane.
Expanding the uncertain realms,
calling on cherry bombing, skate boarders
to find holes into China
and sew us back together with common thread.

Untying Bonds

I feel like a little shit! For holding his hand
For asking him nicely, opening the storage room door to call him back
Spelling it out for him, once, then again
Hailing my bluff
Standing on the wood boards, aged in their years of loitering
The light from the grass framed
Icebox flickered

As our hands let go, Now strangers
Done trying, done striving for the
Oh so over rated silver screen
Selling us red lipped romance
Never to be lived up to, where the world took real form
In the back of cafes, between your silhouette and mine
Below storage room spotlights
Reciting carefully written scripts
“It’s not you. It’s me”

We were no more then one rose in hand
One meek yellow rose in hand
One bleeding hand, one sliced palm
Meant to show commitment but ending up
Leaving lips crystal blue, sunken face, drained of blood
Pooling, running down cracks in the also weeping floor boards
The tie is cut with metallic shears
The vibration of the foot steps
The foot steps
The door to the storage room
Closes
One hollow sound
My feet stay planted
Alone like an unmoved shell
Among crates of milk and flour sacks
Stepping back into my body, with the force of necessity
Try pouring my lungs full of air
And still I was too far from warmth
To make my dear eyelids close