The sun impishly dances
across my desk
prancing between
flaws and scratches
evidence of time.

It dances
across my face.
Endlessly laughing.
It hides between lines
uncovers years
itself remaining unfading.

How can something so
unbending, adamant, true
exist among the degeneration
of everything
ever set into motion?

Its caress is taunting
ever intoxicating
unending.
Tomorrow will never come
never pulling the vial slowly closed.

To feel its warmth and company
is to feel God’s smile
a breath of hope.

I love how this town empties out at night.
How the buildings take on a life of their own.
With all the people gone they can
Breathe
And finally so can I.
Ironically
I feel a lot less lonely when I'm alone.

I wonder if someday I'll turn to stone,
Like Lot's wife turned to  a pillar of salt.
Only, I imagine it would be a bit less dramatic.
More like falling asleep and becoming part of a park bench.
In any case, I think I'd like that.

I wonder why I write these things
And who I am writing to
Immortalizing my thoughts here
In black ink on the back of a used
Envelope.
I guess I hope someone will find it someday.
I just wish I had something more profound to say than

That tree had blossoms on it last week
And now they've disappeared.

If women are from Venus
and men are from Mars
lets compare scars, while we ponder the stars
and talk about how this world must be ours

I had a dream we shared cigarettes
and talked for hours in a waffle house
and our coffee got cold
and we laughed about it.
I tried to show you constellations from my driveway
but the clouds covered everything
except the little dipper.
You kissed my fingers
when I held your hand.
I woke up happy
despite
three hours of sleep.