we partied in a Chevrolet station wagon
the night we graduated went fast around the devil curves that
uphill gravel laiden course
to the top like we were the best
to the hill west of Rochester
where those acid drop rainfalls fell
into our open eyes
made rainbows kaleidoscopes
out of evergreens and
telephone poles
flashes shone in brief aware
and dreams they spoke out echoing
no one sane was here
found our way safely back
across the street from my house and parked behind the garage where
Hope came up in a tight dress
drunk and quite acting
nervy knowing she had
made all both our heads turn
or all ten of em
and only having one
Chevrolet
the backseat turned down
into almost a bed
we gave the pulsing energy
the flashes a go
a right groovy we
said at the time
one at the time impulse
the stars
the moon
the rocking
Chevrolet
all night
half the next day
I don't think it was
just my
imagination

The things I whisper to myself:
You are not entitled to my thoughts
You have no jurisdiction over my actions
You cannot control my emotions
and yet,
I have to apologize to myself in secret for apologizing to you out loud.

they say to give in secret
and so I do
you say I'm not giving
it makes me sad
when I do give
and you praise another
for my hidden efforts
you say I don't give
but I'm giving in
to self doubt
and I'm this close to giving up
so if that's not giving
then I don't know what is.

I am impatient
Too often
With conversations
These days

And i can't
Say the reason
Out loud

But if a body
Could hear
The conversation
Going on in
My brain

Well, I guess,
It might make
More sense.

John and Tuesday slipped away,
I remember well the day.
Working in the garden,
Just a few corners away,
That Tuesday.
I was planting, turning spades,
Adding compost to gaunt soil.
John wasn't in my thoughts Tuesday.
Not like today.

The garden thrives.
The splash of water
Transports memory's eye.
We sit outside The Trout,
He reads to Paul and I,
Below an Oxford sky,
Under cap and pint:
*Think where man's glory
Most begins and ends,
And say my glory was
I had such friends.

Even in death,
          your last words
were cremated within you.

Like a whispers
                    in a jar
rotting in your lungs.

Words were maggots
             eating away within
                         yearning for release.

everyday
a lesson's learned
something borrowed
something earned
even from
mistakes we make
lessons are learned
everyday

everyday
a lesson's learned
some bring pleasure
others hurt
to be sure
the ones that hurt
more valuable
the lesson learned

everyday
a lesson's learned
concrete jungle
sidewalk dirt
it may seem like
a lot of work
but everyday
a lesson's learned