the folded man
sat creasing the edges of his wallet sized heart
and stared off into the romantic night
full of lovers embracing
and others who silently wished for a hand to hold

he waited for her soft footsteps
but she just sat in her bedroom mirror brushing her hair
thinking of some boy from long ago
sundown was just that kind of girl
trade your temptations today for the empty promise of yesterday
she will stay here another season
maybe he will pass this way
maybe the storm clouds gathering will go away

the harlots all dance with unacquainted tenderness
not all embraces are done with joy
call it a sundown's choice cause its a bad one
and the gambler brushes dust off his neat appearances
each detail of his solitude lie must be cared for
lest it crumble and expose hes just a green kid
from illinois
we all put the best face we can
some just take it too far

she went to the picture show
and looked for familiar faces in the crowded hall
but the folded man had already slipped away
with one of the harlots
who will make a pretty bride someday
everybody gets a second chance
they just may not want it once they get it

she brushed the ashes from her clothes
they fell like thin snowfall on spring day
a last taste of winters hand
out of the burnt shell of the dancehall at dawn we came
the thick smoke splayed out on the thin wind
wound its way past catching the dust and
making the sunlight a dull brown
she looked at me with tears for eyes
asked me to take her from this place
everybody gets a second chance
they just may not want it once they get it

caught in a dark romance of shadows
she said she could taste a wilderness of tears
waiting just beyond the soft candlelight
and she just couldn't face it alone again
so held her thin hand clasped in mine
while her heart thundered like madness
and we spent the hours talking ever so quiet

we lay awake under the moving darkness
we lay entwined in reassurance
we lay skin to skin
like lovers do
i drifted in and out of restless dreams
of sailing ships testing the tempest
i dreamt of gypsy's dancing in the dark wood
these dreams were a tangle of a dark romances shadows
****** you to believe that path you tread
was meant to be

her smoke filled eyes
lent favor to the idea that somewhere
deep within there burned a flame
but her voice was cool like the first kiss of autumns wind
was deep as the craft of her thoughts could devise
for she sought to weave such a tale
as to sway the heart
and repeal this dark romance

the trees give way to large open space
with a road running its center
fields of wild grass and shrub border its sides
above the sky has forgotten the sun
under the swift grey silent river of storm clouds
it will rain any moment
the air is thick with its taste

a mass of small birds suddenly take to wing
moving as one swinging up into the treeline
the silence implied is full of birdsong
and the wood sounds
we walk hand in hand through the grass
to the cracked and **** strewn road
that has not see a soul in years
she stops to pick a wild rose
and we resume walking while she holds it with gentle care
like a kitten she is taking home to feed warm milk

thunder rolls off just to the east
we have crossed the road and plunge back into
wild grass and ****
passing the rusted skeletal frame of some car
engulfed by a small tree
i pitch a rock at the hood and with the rewarding metal retort
press on to the far side of the clearing
the large oaks looming in our path
seem like ancient sentinels guarding the gates to eden
we pause as we reach the treeline
i look back
i will never forget the beauty of this day
with my sweet lover
and this quiet peaceful place

the happier rabbit drenched in sweat
the language of his contorted face pulls at me
something approaching repentance in his fuzzy eyes
but trickster he plagiarizes puppy dog eyes to ****** his way free

the happier rabbit is a ***** of the profane tongue
and like a smooth jesus walking on the waters of verbal jive
he just walks your wallet like he's walking the dog
he's got nothing but fur but might as
well be wearing a brooks brothers three piece
and living bankers hours

the happier rabbit
making fast tracks for the dark woods
with the equivalent of a rolls royce and a roll 'o' dimes
living is easy in the forever summertime state
long as you got the endless supply of sheep
looking for greener pastures comin south for the winter
the happier rabbit lounges by the pool catchin a tan
sipping a long island ice tea
there may be something seriously wrong with us
but we are happy just the same

in a setting sun
reflected with imperfections on the lake
she waits under the summer tree
its lively conversation with the wind
stirs shadows and returns lost memories to her
like wayward children asking for bread and a sip

her fathers stern voice on a cold night
her first kiss by moonlight at bible camp
her cat's purr
these things come back to her in a rush
but the stillness of her face undisturbed
her's is a setting sun
reflected by the lake with imperfections

night is a sour brother to day and sits heckling
her from the window
that she should endure the hour alone
that her time fallow ground
the seeds scattered without care
but her hand scatters to her sleeping poet
and rests reassured on his feverish brow

she draws his form in fine lines and shadows
a black and white reflection of imperfection sleeping
she lingers with her smile
and by moonrise she is curled up in his arms
both dreaming reflections of the days reality's
but dreams are imperfect messengers of meaning
and hers is stuttering images of yesterday

in a rising sun
perfectly perceived
her bare skin wakes him
with anticipations of lustful hungers
he sees only her perfections
sees only the bright beauty of her body and soul
that is his imperfection
we are all slaves to our sunset's
we are all hopeful children of our dawn's
they are both imperfect
but together they are perfectly imperfect