I used to watch the silver rain fall
On Sundays whilst listening to The National.
My breath would form fogged circles,
On cold windows, arching over a suburban view.

I watch your eyes move
Make plans behind ice irises
And beautiful though the April sun is
It scratches in dry heat

My tentative plans forming
Concrete ambition
My dreams melt into one
Mind ticking rapidly
In midday sun

So I don't really know where I'll be
                                       This time next year...

to wonder is simple and human and fine;
but it is to relinquish control that’s divine.

I kissed you;
I mean kissed you.

and the rain between the buildings
loudly lauded with applause.

Before I met her
I used to dress myself.
Donned in paisley,
I had class and style.
She cut out my Calvin Klein heart
and now I look like
my grandpa.
Oversized golf shirts,
and slacks to match.

I used to dress myself.
It sounds absurd
but it's true.
I was dangerous, I lived
on the edge.
She said,
"You're not a gangster,
so quit dressing like one.
Here, put this on.
It's really cute."

I used to dress myself.
And now I'm
safe and sound in
cardigans and corduroy.

Low hanging clouds diffused
smudging the flat peaks
in muddy weather
brawny trees glistened
at the dripping tips.