I can find more perfect moments,
In one conversation with you,
Than in everything else I've been through.

I can find more joyful feelings,
In an hour together,
Than I could in the rest of my forever.

I can find more nervous heartbeats,
When you hold my hand,
Than in every trial I've had to withstand.

I can find more calm and comfort,
When you hold me tight,
Than in the warmest bed on the coldest night.

I can find more honest concern,
For me and my health,
From you than I've ever had from anyone else.

I can find more words to say,
But I don't have the time,
And to be honest I'm running out of words that rhyme.

I drink not for the dead.
They needn't escape, nor
Celebrate.

I drink not for the lost.
They need not flee from
Past or fate.

I drink for all the rest.
For those who have no
Cup nor wine.

To them, I'm raising mine.
The ones who stay to
Work and fight

Through the day and darkest
Night. Who rest beyond
Sobriety.

I suppose I drink for me.

The guys from the demolishing
Team accidently broke a door
In the basement.

Things happen, but this door was
From the original building; built
In 1920. Covering it in bubble wrap

And writing HANDLE WITH CARE
All over it didn't help. The
Lithuanians were in a hurry;  

No match for a speeding BobCat.
I carried the corpse out to the
Container, and thought to myself:

I'm gonna be the last man to ever
Knock on this *******...
I set it down (the oak thing was a

Good 95 years old), and wrote
On it in my finest lettering.
Chamber.

Took off my glove and stood there,
Gently rapping, calling out to
The guys by the forklift:

HEY! Name the bird, boys!
No response. Sometimes I feel like
I might not belong in construction.

A perfect evening ended as
Its opposite.
Guess it was his fault again,
As it always was, whether
God's honest truth or the
Devil's.

Sometimes it feels like
There's a Satan's Little Helper
Carving my initials
Into every bullet in the world,
He thought, and bowed his head
Unto the sour, sour
Injustice

Of it all. No reason to hold back
The angry tears; he let a few
Hit the kitchen
Sink, so as not to stain
Anything.

Rain wet pavements are mirrors to
Yellow lights and subtle neon.
Click-clacks of women in a hurry,
Even the taxi drivers are too
Tired to use their horns.

Leaves the size of Samson's hands
Keep dropping around me,
Sticking to the ground
As if glued into the scrapbook
Of autumn.

Somewhere between cold and
Not. Winter and fall.
Morning and night.
Alone in a world full of others
Than me.

Every time I look at you...*
So many poems
Begin with these words.

This is one of them.
*...I feel as if I've stolen you
From some poor fool

Who just didn't do it for you.
I don't even wish I could say
That I'm sorry.

You are my loot, some treasure
That I Indiana Jones'ed out of
A collapsing cave,

And nearly lost my hat in the
Process. An unknown piece
Of Wagner's, discovered

In a Richard Clayderman Plays
ABBA book of sheet music at a
Flea market.

You touch me the way I remember
Dreaming that woman on the
Poster on the wall of my friend's

Bedroom in '88
Would magically climb down from
Her two-dimentional pedestal  

And do. "I know you," I think
Every time I look at you.
Sometimes you look at me

And confess -after I've left you
Breathless by doing and/or saying
Something so clownishly stupid

You nearly fell to the floor laughing-
That you "can't believe we've barely
Been together for months..."

I know. In so many
Ways, we
Haven't.

When will the stars of our
Love go out?
Both of us numb to the
Touch of the other?
See worry or pain, and
No longer bother? Not
Really care if we're with or
Without.
When will the stars of our
Love go out?

The thought is as distant to me
As the sun.
I know for a fact it will
Rise in the morning.
I'm too busy loving to look
For a warning.
Perhaps time will tell me that
You're not the one.
The thought is as distant to me
As the sun.