I dream of more than the picket fence, the Nissan and the husband.
I dream of more than quiet nights, cabins, boats, and children.
My true dreams don't always get the light
they're masked by what I'm supposed to say
the words that everyone expects, and accepts
from the blonde girl who seems so kind so, S t r u c t u r e d.
I dream of being eternally dizzy. constant exhilaration.
A packed house, a sweaty crowd
My skin wet with slick,
Rugged jackets, filthy aroma.
your picture in my wallet.
An opening circle, antici pation
the rumbling ground, electric field
They're here for us.
The opening, sonnet. The rigorous breath of
the vibrato tearing my vocal chords sets their hearts on fire;
and the sweetest revenge, the prettiest poison
would be getting your desperate phone call.
"I didn't know you had that in you."
Neither did I until you threw me away.