And he was lurking around every corner
that bastard cop that has it in for me
But he never seems to pull me over
just smiles and waves as I cruse by
at a steady 83

I’ve burned a lot of gasoline
hoping to avoid the man
but all in all he doesn’t seem
to give a good god damn

So I wonder if I’m running
from a self-conceived behavior
or if he really is gunning for me:
just too busy reading the paper.

It’s a damn shame
that we have to talk like this
But any talk is good talk
even if we rely on
jovial banter to
pretend we don’t know
anything about anything.

It’s hard to deal with.
I know it’s hard to deal with.

So Shut your window
Draw your blinds
And pretend I never said
Anything.

Experience dripping?

Hot bath water down a suddenly chilled back
Cold rain from the tip of a nose to the top of a chin
Icemelt from a fading stalactite

Sweat from one’s being
Blood from one’s teeth
Tears from one’s burning eyes

A symbol of Completion.

The winter freezes tight, then it melts away
The last of the bath from a fresh, clean skin
The soul drips from our pens and our words and our songs and our swords
And I can only hope
I’ve a big enough bucket

to catch it.

He’ll stop every time and
hold the door while you
carry in your groceries.

And you’ll smile
and he’ll smile
and you’ll have a short chat
about the weather,
which neither of you know anything
about
but both of you have
a pretty good idea
that it’s not going to
be so great this week.

And you’ll laugh
and he’ll laugh
and you’ll go your separate ways,
Reluctantly, he
Necessarily, you

And he’ll just wish you wern’t a good Christian woman,
so he wouldn’t feel so bad about
feeling so badly about you

At a glance
there’s nothing to
write home about
but we’ll write anyway
and see what seeds are sown
perhaps we’ll find something has
grown
perhaps we’ll find a reason not
to dig the bugger up

But it’d look so nice
next to that vase
of Flowers

Gingerly dear friends!
Let us wander with the masses
and just try to settle in
while this little issue passes

Or get your gun
and wander out
just far enough
to take a shot

And gingerly, dear friends
show the bastards what you’ve got

This is the last time
that they’ll let this
bullshit fly

No more
second chances
mulligans
re-negs

so make sure that
it counts for
something.

Something.

He was clever by sheer repetition
with his violent wonderings hidden away
But he struggled with his own position
and fought with the choices he’d already made

Though soon enough his mind sublimated
and thoughts, fears and worries were put out of sight
Well, he couldn’t see what he’d created
for his cognizance failed him most every night

He could barely find his own position
but he was clever by sheer repetition

The snow flies
the plot thickens
the crow cries
my pulse quickens

I’ve got a thought
to stay inside
To wait this out
where it’s safe

But I’m not sure
the rest of me
can keep up
with that pace

Damn it
swing another saber
Damn it
swing it loud and low
Damn it
swing it that much greater
Damn it
Watch it go

The snow flies
the plot thickens
the crow cries
my pulse quickens

We’ve got a good thing going here
so let’s keep it that way
you shut your mouth when we talk politics
Or just leave

And we’ll grin and bear your monologue
And let you tell your tales
but shut your mouth when we talk politics
or else it gets hard to breathe

Eat your piecemeal porridge
and strap on your half-shined shoes
The whole damn sky is coming down
there’s not much left to lose

Your fingers cold, my fingers cold
we’ll wander hand in hand
stomachs filled with piecemeal porridge
and our footprints left in sand

But they’ll wash away eventually
we’ll wash away eventually
and leave us with a fallen sky
to sift through

Up so close
and I can hardly
make you out
So I’ll just assume
that you’re not there
it’s easier that way.

Don’t answer your phone
I won’t be calling.

TV ads from
the nineteen eighties
and we all wonder
where the good times went

Failure to figure
our personal budgets
we struggle to find
how our money was spent

But that god damned
theme is
stuck in my head
And it probably will be
all night

But that god damned
theme is
stuck in my head

…

Alright.

Aimed for deconstruction
but fortunately nothing was
Broken.

A few corners scuffed
and a paper-cut.
The drapes don’t hang
quite right anymore.

The door squeaks
the window leaks
The smoke detector
fires up at odd hours
in the night.

It’s not quite right.
It’s just not quite right.

But at least nothing was
Broken.

Face down
we faced off
but I didn’t see
much meaning
to the whole scenario.

It was a strange place,
the Cul-de-sac.

I could hear the
echo of my scraping
steps on the
flash-froze
Ice,
a crisp wrinkle in the
sonic architecture of
the small valleyed place.

100 steps I counted
not including the
careful, measured
paces up the last of the
concrete stairs.

Wind picked up
and suddenly,
the car would be gone
if I looked for it.

Wind fell down
and suddenly,
the car was still gone,
because I didn’t quite care
enough to make sure
that I had a way
Out.

The red light makes the room seem warmer
than the furnace should allow
and coming in from such a storm
it’s welcome color on my frozen brow

I’ve feigned the Warrior, standing out
in freezing wind and stinging snow
but now that I’m upon my couch
in heated home, in candle glow

I don’t think I’ll keep up that show.

Smells frostbitten.
Tastes like something
worse, but
I’ll bite.

I’ll probably be sick again.
A small price
to pay, though
for a good,
home-cooked
meal.

Right?

Turn your tired eyes
your tired eyes
your tired eyes
and find the will to rise
and ease your lies
perhaps prevent a
hard capsize
Though Goodness knows
we’ve need for a good
Dunking.

Seven times I’ve rectified
what seven people came to call
a failure in reality
Though subjective that thought might be

But forced, my hands
and turned, my eyes
I found seven ways to make it right