Hope was selling
dreams to the hermits
on the street.
Empty stars filled the carts
paying a price that was too
high.
In debt they left
and came back broke with
butterflies in their dusty pockets
and moon kissed smiles upon their frowns.

Aspiring the rocky dust of crushed stars,
feeling high, feeling new
shooting up, falling down-
A shower of meteors lighting up across the horizon.
Crashing the earth's crust,
addicts for another fix.

Dreamers stealing the stars,
tasting paradise for a little while.

If you held a gun to my head
and pressed the barrel into
the small indention I've had
since I was a child
and asked for a story
I'd give you a poem
and ask that you'd just
give me
one more
line

I saw you in a picture today,

A Family Christmas Card.

Your face looks like mine
you can see it in the eyes
especially when you smile.

He's smiling
Holding you in his arms
like you belong there

She's holding your brother
like she held you
in the few pictures we took

Together.

But there's something
not quite right
with this picture.

You can see it in your eyes,
especially when you smile.

Some things will
never be
Perfect.

My girlfriend's girlfriends
Have a friend,
     Whom
They demurely refer to as:
      Bob.
He's ever-ready,
Like the bunny,
Current, never late;
And yet he'll never
Ever date.

He's no fireman,
Or a cop,
More Chippendale -
They say he's hot.
He's not needy,
He's out to please,
From what they say,
He likes to tease.
He's not a boy,
He's not a toy.

Later, when the deed is done,
He's not one to kiss and run.
He's the Alpha
And Omega,
He's the cause
Of their hysteria.

Bob surely has a way.

And should the girls
Play hard to get,
Bob's not one
To sit and fret:
And should the girls
Still want to play,
They replace
Two Double A's.