no good reason to
sit this one out, it seems
all of the time spent
on spending our money
has caused us to greatly
underestimate many
values determined by
supply
and
demand,
though all of the spending
leaves everyone feeling quite
spent.
God,
Damn it, why is life
so sweet at 3.a.m, yet
so sour at seven?

I’ve been spending a lot of time with someone
spending a lot of time with someone, late while
all the rest of us have run on off to sleep,
and while histories and jokes abound, I
can not help but fight the thought of feelings
moving upward, though they linger just beneath.

And in some respects I feel a baby sitter,
and in others, I must be the third wheel,
though there’s always four of us, all things considered
And anyway, what the fuck do we just
sit around for?

you’re beautiful
you’re wonderful
and everything i hoped for
small complications
with long drawn out
solutions

oh and
i forgot how crappin
little sleep i get

Alas, I feel beset,
both with the swelling urge to
write, and the swelling
urge to never write again.

The latter, it does not take
hold so well. The former, it
often stays not long enough
for anything to come of it.

So, as all such evenings end,
we (I, specifically) are left
with another ill-crafted, rambling piece
that was meant, at first, to
prove that things can still happen,
and yet it only serves to highlight
all the bits that havn’t happened yet.

I doubt it.

A ripe Saturday afternoon,
perfect in it’s postcard beauty,
dead leaves shining in the warm-enough-to-wear-a-sweater sunlight.
The wind blows just enough to prove
that wind can still blow on a day like this,
wile the coats and hats we left
on the back seat of the car are forgotten, a passing thought lost
to the momentary respite of a fall
that can’t make up it’s mind.

Under these conditions, all things
are love and life and beauty. Under
these conditions, Everything is a miracle
if you squint your eyes, just right.

there is no way for you to love
except to lay and need me

welcome to my arms little one
don’t ever ever leave me

There are worse
Fates
than doomed and damned
to live a life of apathy.

Those fates include,
Eternity in Hell, lethal
injection, drowning, cancer,
and having to go every day
knowing that you’ll never
amount to anything.

…Oh, wait.

It’s a rough life out there,
listening to alt-rock records from
the nineties and wishing things
could be they way they used-ta-been,
before you needed rent money every month.

And the coffee you drink doesn’t
percolate, it’s far too fancy for
such Americana to allow. And while
there’s nothing high and mighty about
foreign cars, there’s certainly something
cocky about some of them.

Look, I’m not saying you should
break the law, I’m just saying that
not all dumpsters have locks on them,
and not all the unlocked ones say
“Do Not Occupy.”

Find yourself a new place to stay
if things are so damn difficult.
Dig?

Let’s ride this wave
Out
Out
Out
But watch for the undertow
And let’s ride this wave
Way
Way
Way out
Until the golden sand and
Colorful dots have disappeared
Let’s hang ten until the skyline
Is undulating tides and peaking waves
And we’re riding this wave
Out
Out
Out
And we’ll see what’s out there
And we’ll see the lights
And we’ll see the world
Let’s ride this wave
Way
Way
Way out
And see where it takes us
And when we’re finished
Hope the current brings us back

the light came
he left the house
creaks and leaks following him
scared to her eye balls,
his wife pinned a halo on his hair
hoping to turn him into a better man
the run down city leapt through him
he flew away over the old railroad tracks
thinking, “am I right, am I alright?”

For all the times you
couldn’t stand the barking,
some night you wish
you could hear that old dog bark
one more time

There’s a bunch of people
in a restaurant, at a booth,
and they’ve all got instruments
which is not so strange, considering.

Except they’ve got the instruments
out of cases, with a pair of songbooks
and a jar for tips. Not so strange
except the restaurant doesn’t quite
usually field musical acts.

But they’re playing.

And the woman in the booth across
is lounging, with her head against her
hands, and a mask of absolute defeat
covering her rather lovely face

Well, the waitress stops and asks
her for he order, with a smile, and
the woman quietly answers all the
questions, including “Is there something
wrong?” Of course there is. Her
car broke down. it’s been a long
damn day.

But they’re playing

While the woman sits, she
listens to the music from the booth
across, and slowly, her mask works
it’s way loose, but just a bit.

So, she gets a bit more comfortable,
eyes closed and facing the ceiling
as the songs she never thought she’d
hear at this hour, in this place,
wash over her and everyone until
her mask slips finally.

Do you know any Tom Petty?
of course they do, they say.
So they both flip through their songbooks
and the woman smiles thoughtfully
and all is not right with the world,
but the bits that aren’t don’t matter
so much right now.

Oh, and they’re playing.