Just an outlet? I think not.
More like a window to my soul,
if you would care for a peek.
Stay for awhile, its cold outside
and I could use the company.
Snowflakes dance around,
I open the door and welcome you inside,
"Take your shoes off and make sure you get the snow off, I don't like to track that in here."
Though there are no tracks, no rails or paths.
But please, come inside.
It gets so lonely in the winter.
The windows become cold to the touch
and the hearth's embers flicker.
Throw on another log, and watch the sparks
Just be careful not to scratch the paint.
don't stare at me
look at everybody
standing over there
shadow of the mind
just a shadow of the time
shadow of the mind
just a shadow with the time
and heres the space
by your side
everything gets lost
floating in the sky
burn another doobie
floating in the sky
look at the sun
floating in the sky
all these colors
floating in the sky
all the colors you can't change
all the colors know your name
all these colors will not change
take off your shoes
feel mother earth deep in your toes
feel mother earth then go explode
then go hide
cus you really might get lost in this time
somewhere in the woods
when you ran away
ran away man and nothing is the same
come back every now and then
gotta get your water in the brain
then you came back
back as it was
back before the day
before everything began to change
collide straight in your brain
remember the wild
remember the time
but what is the time
except a riddle in the mind
He watches the school bus turn off and out of sight. He'd see Elaine get off at her stop with her sister and others. She didn't look up at him as the bus drew away. Preoccupied, deep thought, maybe. Some one had a called out, see you Frumpy. She didn't respond or didn’t hear. That Tidy kid, probably; mouth on him like a horse. John walks up the side of the road towards the cottage. he thinks of her, her slow walk along the aisle, looking away from him. Shy probably after that kiss on the sports field, lunch time. Or annoyed. He doubted, shy more like. He sighs. Cars whiz by. Too fast. He wonders what she made of the kiss. Lips to lips, touching just on. Brushing soft. Didn't want to press on her. Hand on her arm, gently, holding. His other hand; what had that been? Touched her back, felt bra strap, just there beneath fingers. He enters the front gate, closes carefully. Click of metal lock. The garden has been freshly dug. His father dug yesterday, carefully, back into it, machine like. I helped, not really my scene. Did my bit. He opens the back door and enters in. His mother is at the wood stove, cooking dinner, dark haired, blue of eyes, flush of skin, heat and rush. He says his greetings; she asks of his day at school; he smells the cooking, smiles, passes by, and up the stairs to his room. He closes the door. Peaceful. He goes to the window and peers down at the garden. Small orchard of apple trees to his left, hedges surrounding. He sits on his bed, looks around the room. Few books by the window, boyhood favourites; Roby Roy, Treasure Island. Ivanhoe, others. A sheet of paper with a list of birds seen recently. Some unticked, rare. He hadn't expected to kiss her. Wasn't planned. He was just going to talk and get to know her. Better, more. Instead he kissed her lips. Brushed softly with his. Skin on skin. Exchange of juices. He licks his lips. Wonder if part of her is here still? He licks again. Tongue over lips, bottom, top. He picks up the list of birds. Unticked are rare. Did she touch him with her hands as he had her? He can't recall. Too suddenly done, unplanned. He felt her bra strap. Fingered it, briefly. The whole afternoon spent on thinking of her and the kiss and her lips. He sensed, when he drew her near to him, her breasts, cushiony, soft. Unintended. Some birds were from foreign climes. Unticked, but not forgotten. The book of birds is by his bed, well read, thumbed bruised. Something stirred in him when he kissed. A buzz along the wire of his nerves. Buzz in his groin. He turns the page over, birds ticked, more common, some more so. Odd that male birds had the beauty, females dull as mud. What did she think after the kiss? He had to go off as the bell rang across the sports field, needed to see what happened to him, as he kissed and after. Down below, dampish, unusual. In the boys' bog, he noticed damp stickiness, odd, unknown. All through afternoon lessons his mind was on her. Couldn't close her out. Lips seemed numb. Licks them now. Tongue over top and lower. Frumpish they called her, others. The glasses did her no favours. Her dark hair untidy, her eyes large and watery. Her lips partly open, teeth, smallish, white. Ears hidden by her hair, but just visible. She smelt of countryside: apples, hay, horses. She was shy, blushed after the kiss. As he had crossed the field, after the kiss, towards the school, his legs seemed jellied, wobbly. Tomorrow he would see her again, then what? Even on the school bus home, he avoided looking over his seat, to where she sat with her sister. He was tempted. Have a quick look, gaze casually, but he hadn't. Regrets now, too late. Should have. Just one peep. Goldfinch chattered almost the
all way home, sitting next to him, showing him cards, talking of school. Teachers. That teacher you like, that one who said, you'll be a writer one day? Yes, he had said. Been dismissed. Took kids home with him, in his lunch time, did things, they say. Oh, he had said, hard to believe, but there you go. All sorts. He'd not gone. Boys or girls? He had asked. Boys mostly, Goldfinch had said. A new teacher now. He should have looked and seen her. Her sister was loud and sparkled. Not his type. Kissed and then what? He puts the sheet of paper back. He takes some small binoculars off the shelf, and peers through the window. Scans the sky. Some one downstairs puts on the radio. His sister, probably, twisting the knobs, getting a station, music on and off, loud, soft. Elaine's nails, bitten down, ink-stained fingers. They played together the fingers. Nerves, twisting over each other. He noticed. Saw them. He was about to say about a butterfly he'd seen, over by the science lab, fluttering by. Fragile wings. Thin, God made, wonder they fly. Kissed her. Lips on lips. His heart thumped hard as a drum in a brass band. A blue tit over by the hedge. Two of them. Goldfinch, the bird, not the boy, was one of his favourites. Bullfinch, that too. He sensed her tongue as he kissed, tip of, not the whole thing. Some big boy had told him and others, one lunch hour, in the playground, about a girl he'd had, up in the woods, off the playing field. None had seen. Good quick go, the big kid had said, like entering a bloody cave it was, warm and hollow. A sparrow on the fence, two three of them. They sit and flutter wings. The big kid hadn't said what was quick or like a cave. The girl was bit of a slapper, the big kid had said. He puts down the binoculars, kicks off his shoes, and lies down on his bed. Closes his eyes. Eyes shut. Sees her, lips pursed, eyes open, large eyes like brown stones, through glasses. His lips make a kissing sound. Pretends to kiss again. Keeps his lips there. Not pressing, just touching, soft silk soft, hardly brushing, dust off a moth's wing soft. His heart thumps, he can feel it with his fingers, pressing. He wonders, odd for him, what she looks like, undressing.
and a warm place
It's so hotttt in here
Get me something to make me feel better
Misbehave with me, babe
I'm your love of choice
And you have all my shoes
Under your bed,
I'm in your head
Shakin my hips, sweet liquor lips
I knew you couldn't resist
We're both so sick
You've got brown eyes
You've got grey eyes
You've got blue eyes
and I'll watch you go
I don't make eye contact or say hello with the cute, talented boy in my class.
He's weird, but I know I could take it. But.
It's because I'm tired of being cut on the way up to the way down.
I hope that I can see him again when someone with more courage stands in these shoes,
that knows what to say and how not to use--
--to use and use these spots of mine
that shed with touch and the setting sun.
Spaces where the taxidermied remnants of partners lie bare
from the times I lacked the effort, or time, or was too scared
to ask them not to go, or ask them their name, or, "I'm sorry, forgive me?"
I let a hand go
I pull away from a kiss.
I don't know what's wrong with me
or who I do or do not miss.
I stumbled against you at the bazaar in Alexandria one day,
a stroke of accidental closeness as we brushed hands,
and my heart shivered like the old man on the corner of Divisadero street.
And then you vanished from my mind as a dead leaf from branch,
till I saw you again in a tavern by the docks,
quill in hand and the world on your back.
We share that same dusty look, that obvious stride
that wanderers from everywhere can so easily surmise
to belong to one in kind.
The day after you were at the well by the caravanserai,
and I recognized your goatskin shoes as those
of a mariner from the North, the land of the Majus, my kin.
I got followed yesterday,
My stalker was one of the shades;
A plain-clothes police officer
that tailed me sensibly,
But his eyes gave him away.
Too many encounters
with useless youth
had hardened his gaze.
He was too experienced.
And the shoes,
They were a dead give-away.
Still, they're onto me.
I'm watching my back but
"It's me front I'm worried about."
I'm a face, nothing more,
They're gonna eat me alive.
If I stumble,
They're gonna eat me alive."
That sinking feeling,
"Time to abandon ship."
Line Fourteen from Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest by Captain Jack Sparrow (Johnny Depp)
Lines Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen and Twenty from Help I'm Alive by Metric
Line Twenty-Two from Star Wars: Episode III - Revenge of the Sith by General Grievous
We used to stay out way past light,
hiding behind old-growth
chestnuts in the dark.
We listened to cicadas,
sung with the crickets,
shared our hearts
waiting for our signal,
“Ollie Ollie in come free,
Oly Oly oxen in free,
all-ee all-ee outs in free!”
Those days are gone now,
like the smelts
the wild rapids
on the Ocoee in winter,
granny mountain magic.
But if you listen,
you can still hear
the wood spirits mumble.
Sprites will forever fly
in the thickets
with lightning bugs.
The can of rocks
will never be forgotten
by this mountain-boy soul.
It's not so strange how
I always put four leaf clovers in my shoes
and never pick flowers out of season….
it's my Granddaddy's custom!
she is in the full length mirror
in a long white dress
tossing her hair
and she says aloud
that she doesn't like it at all
i laugh and go take her in my arms
and we start to sway
looking eachothers eyes and feeling the warmth
of our embrace
i am intoxicated in her perfume
and in the scents of her eye
wander the mysterious paths of a woman's heart
and caress the soft textures of her romantic soul
she laughs that we are gonna be late
we are going to be out on the ballroom floor
in the spinning lights and smokey air
slow dancing in eachothers arms
soft touching eachother in every way
swaying to the songs we arnt even listening to
we only see eachother
the rest of the world is some long lost summer night long ago
far away from this ballroom floor
far away from us
she leads me off the dancefloor
and our to the cool evening air
and we make out in the back of the car
like we were once again teenagers on a school night again
enjoying the caress and loving the taste feel
we make love
grand slow and glowing warm love
and then the world slows
and picks us up again
we break into giggles
as we go on home
sneaking into our own house
like we were a couple of kids all over again
she has re-discovered the young man in me
for the dew eyed girl in her
and she has rekindled the happy for ever after
the lets just kick off our shoes and run in the waves
the light in her eyes
is enough for me