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It’s 1 am,
My friend in the
Front seat rolls
Another blunt
As the light
Post that are
Starting to
get warm
Cast a shadow
Of the old
Jeep wrangler
That we ride in
Going nowhere,
We take a right,
And then a left,
I sit in the back,
With a light mentol
American spirit
Perching upon
My lips,
Im lost in a train
Of thought,
You can almost
See the steam
Oozing from
My head.
the lights
back on,

After 3
from the

And a week
of sleeping
on the leather

And the
tile floors
when it
got too hot,

A sense
of relief
through me,

The ac turns
back on
and I turn
the kitchen
lamps on,

It feels alive,
it breaths
the walls,

And exhales
the old vents.
the bees are sharing their dreams
with me

and I want to know what
it feels like to rob a bank,
to run naked through the moonlit garden,
compose a sonata,
stare up into trees
then pause to listen to blue birds singing,

the bees are sharing their dreams with me, today

and I want to run with the bulls
in Pamplona

I want to remember

time insane
when untamed dreams
ran wild
in the dim light
of a room without windows

purple eyeshadow and lips

dancing through misty memory,
she comes

quiet midnight settling in her eyes
bare foot waif, never kind...

the thief of my dreams
I’m sorry
It’s inevitable,
It disappoints
And discourages,
It runs its course
Upon watered
Eyes and calluses
On the palms
Of your hands,
Despite all
Of that,
There’s dishes
To be made,
And cat litter
To be cleaned,
And people
To meet,
And storms
To prepare for,
And there will
Be someone to
Don’t let it
Get to you,
As the run away
Clouds of a named
Storm hits the city,
I sit underneath
Metal panels besides

Resting cars that
Sleep until it’s their
Turn to move again,
The water drainage
Always seems to be

Covered by leafs
Or some type of trash,
Creating a lake of
Rain water, not deep
Enough to drown

But deep enough for
It to grab onto
My ankles while
Drops disturb the
Calmness as the

Wind whistles through
The branches of tall
Trees that fill up the
Borders of the parking lot,
I light my second cigarette

As the water level rises,
And wonder and wonder
About doors and windows,
The ones that closed and
The ones that will open,

If I should climb to a second
Story given the chance,
Would I even get the option,
Happiness is around the corner,
And I remember I don’t know
How to climb,

So I’ll sit in a half full
Parking lot, and rest
For a little while longer
While I light a third
To those who have loved.
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