Do you remember how it felt
to be in love with the world?
The simple touch of summer wind,
the voices of the girls
who came
running from the grade school
the moment they heard the bell,
full of life and energy
and rumors they could tell.

Do you recall the writing
that you read on the wall?
You knew that things were changing
as you ran down the hall,
but you
looked back for the last time
and gathered all your thoughts.
Scared to solve the puzzle,
to connect all of the dots.

Did you ever learn a thing then,
or just unlearn all you knew -
how to love a stranger,
or the innocence in you?
Did you
ever find the meaning
in William Blake's "The Lamb?"
We all must face the Lion,
lose, and join the ******.

And did you learn a lesson, child?
Did you face your fears?
Did nature run its brutal course?
And did you shed a tear?
I too have felt the Lion's teeth.
I too have felt his bite.
But never did I stop looking back.
And this is how we fight.

I woke up on the wrong side
of the bed.
I washed my face, shook yesterday
out of my head, and I
opened up my curtains, thought
"what's so great about a blue sky
when it could never match the beauty
that I found in your eyes?"

But I hope you won't remember
how I was at the end, and if
I could go back now,
I'd do it all again
with much more grace and wisdom,
with a tender heart this time,
and I'd pray that'd be enough
to keep you by my side.

I woke up in another stranger's bed.
I looked at her and hated
that all her hair was red, then I
stepped into the city, thought
"*******, I hope it rains -
let the water all run over me
and wash away my pain."

I hope you can remember
how we were at the start, and if
I could go back now
I'd give you my whole heart
and trust you just to keep it.
I'd never be afraid.
Then we might be together
and you'd be here today.

I watched the morning newscast
and found my mind straining to
get out.
Out into a widening desert,
sky open and black above save for
the piercing light of billions of stars
like holes in a living room curtain.
You can call me crazy for it,
but I thought I saw Ginsberg
looking at me through the window
with a sunflower behind his ear.
In fact, I'm almost certain this was anything but an hallucination as my cat pounced at the window
(she never liked my poems either, Allen)
and startled me back into reality.
The television, right, the newscast.
Nuclear bombs and
tariffs on Mexican goods and
oh look, the president is playing golf with the Queen.
I turned it off when I saw he hit a bogey,
parted the curtains, and thought, "That's it, I'm pleading insanity. See you in Bellevue, Allen."

I woke up on a Monday,
met her on a Tuesday,
we married on a Wednesday,
crossed it off the list.

Honeymoon on Thursday,
I got drunk on Friday,
she screamed at me on Saturday
and kissed me with a fist.

Sunday morning rolled around
and I thought I heard the sound
of footsteps on the floor:
she was walking out the door.

I'm in love with a lady
and it's only been days
since she became my baby, now
we're gonna travel the world.
Though I suspect a lot of you
prob'ly think that I'm crazy,
but

I'm really diggin' this girl
and only moments ago
she asked to have my baby. Now
she's got my head in a whirl
and the next few months
are gonna be a bit hazy,
but

I'd do anything for love,
I remember how it felt
to have a lack thereof, and now
I'm bending over backwards for her.
And please don't ask again
because of course I'm sure
(of her).

Many men wait until Death
is staring down at them
in their beds before
they make the effort
to change their ways.
Then they insist that this
makes their lives meaningful,
as if Death should take pity.
     For me, Death was a woman
and my bed a grave of guilt.