because mine’s not,
and at least one of us
needs to think good
and to be able to
open their eyes,
despite the harsh fluorescence,
and the bright computer screens,
and the dull pain
just behind the right eye
and the feeling that all i want to do
is close the door
and lay down on the cool,
rough office carpet
and sleep
but for now i’ll settle
to rest my eyes
as i type,
hoping that no bosses walk by.
never worrying about whether
the answer will come,
or not,
just keep talking,
in a constant tirade
of ass pulled words
until in a moment of clarity,
the perfect idea arrives
and all of the asses are rolled away.
and i would be happy
just to sit here with you,
watching the grass grow
and growing old,
finding wisdom
in forgetting the future,
finding peace
in just this moment,
finding hope
that it just might last.
one cause leads to the effect:
like coffee to poo;
like me loving you.
and blow us all away,
out of our small lives,
out of our small town,
huffing and puffing
and blowing our house
away to a far off place
where anything is possible
and we can experience the magic
that truly comes from
new beginnings.
i could sit here all day
watching you grow,
perhaps wishing that you would grow
faster
or add in a little more
excitement
but still content,
happy in your acceptance
and in your love,
happy in your dependence
and in the symbioticism
between me and you,
between you and me
and in the truth slowly unfolding
that there is no you without me,
and perhaps after all this time,
there is no me without you.
i’ll sit here all night,
for as long as it takes,
watching,
waiting,
with a red-rider in the one hand,
a beer in the other,
and a window open just enough
to let out a shot,
to hit a cat,
in the process
of defecating
in my flower bed,
yet again,
for the last time.
again,
not for the first time,
nor for the last time,
knowing this to be
merely a state of being
that will go on,
and on,
ad infinitum;
so pour another drink
my imaginary friend,
and let’s sit together
and talk about the past,
regaling each other
with memories
of who we once were
and who we used to be,
laughing and crying
all at the same time,
in the presence,
of good company.
with flowers springing
ever which way
leading to joy, happiness,
serendi-piteousness;
all along the streets
suddenly they appeared,
as if out of nowhere,
coming forth from their dark confines
experiencing the outer-airs
with thoughts of “this is the life”
and unspoken thoughts,
even to themselves, of
“things are going to change,”
leading to springing dreams
of quitting it all,
returning to the wild,
as they cut their grass
trimmed their hedges and
kept the wild at bay,
except for in a memory
of a time when coming over the mountain
they saw a valley
filled with flowers
“red and yellow black and white
they [were] precious in” their sight
and through the flowers flowed
a stream from which they drank,
without fear or tablets,
and felt the icy cold water flow,
making their teeth hurt again
even in the memory
of the water rushing down,
down, down, down, down
through their depths
washing away the inner accumulated filth.
domino like,
one thing lead to the next:
from the spilled coffee
to the fear
to the looks
that turned into glances
and finally into whispers,
followed by giggles
which only lead to stammering,
stuttering,
hemming,
hawing,
lying,
and intellectual posing,
driving home my dominance,
driving home their ignorance,
counting the moments
until I was done
and could escape back
to the safety of my office
secure within my
collapsible,
impregnable,
fabric fortress
where it all ended,
once again,
in tears
because it’s hard to make it
and even harder to fake it
when i’m wearing my confidence
on my coffee stained sleeve.
and i will not repent
my enjoyment found in
the sight of your leaving,
relishing the view
of your backside
metaphorically walking away
out of my life for good,
never to be met again
on this side of eternity
or on the other,
allowing heaven
to be heaven still,
secure in the knowledge
that you won’t be there.
Incessantly making
working sound
light flashing
on/off/on/off/on/off
keys lagging
mistakes everywhere
windows not loading
windows appearing
half loaded
unusable
cursor jumping
now you see it
now you don’t
gotta love pc
Standing over you
Watching you sleep
In then out
In then out
Unaware of my presence
Unaware of anything
Safely resting
Completely without fear
Perhaps because you know
That I would be here
If you needed me
So there is no fear
that you will ever need me
walking along,
feeling alone
in the lost land
of American Idol fans,
constructing a generation of
lounge singer heroes,
reliving the glories
of innovative artists
who have now passed into
the general mediocrity
of the past:
free to be groped;
free to be grabbed;
free to be destroyed.
and so i sit here,
listening to my indie music,
looking down my nose,
secure in my intellectual superiority,
evidenced by my musical selections.
All along the highway
suddenly wildflowers spring,
red and yellow,
blue and violet,
camouflaging the trash,
naturalizing the road,
beautifying the pavement,
if only for just this moment.
minutes, hours, days pass
stretching into weeks
of glassy eyed starring,
just starring at the screen
searching for something
searching for anything
searching for creativity
but finding only befuddlement
in the never ending quest
for words and ideas
that i haven’t written before
and knowing deep down
that i have written this all before.
and I’m glad it’s all over
and that now we can sit
alone
together
alone
and talk about the
past
future
and even the present
despite it’s unapealing, boorishness
in peace
in tranquility
in happiness
in peace,
finally happy to be
where and when and who
we are,
in this moment.
awful nice
i uncontrollably was
all day long:
nice in my thoughts,
thinking the best,
enjoying your company;
awful on the outside,
disagreeing continually,
making you feel small.
today i revolved;
doing no good to no one,
but looking good, nonetheless.
light slowly filters in
as i hold you in my arms,
with head turned slightly
to let out the drool,
to let out long sighs
of contented sleep,
as i lay here
not asleep,
not drooling,
not content,
watching the gradual growth of light.
the sieve and the sand 
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