I can't play no saxophone
but I can hear it played.
Sometimes it's a lady sighin;
sometimes it's a workin man.
But when it is an orphan cryin
I wish I could hold that child
and play.

I can't hold that child
in these ***** hands of mine.
I can't stop his cryin.
I can hear it way down here
on the sidewalks of the streets he's a child of.
Why, Lord, can I hear that saxophone
but never play?

And for one second as I sat in the back of the car with my eyes closed
feeling the summer breeze against my face
everything was perfect, I didn't care
about a thing. I felt as if I were back when I was little
sitting in the car with just me, my dad,
and my brother, listening to Madonna singing about how DJ's should turn the record
on and what it feels like for a girl as the greenery passed
me by on the road trip to Kentucky.
I felt safe,
but this feeling wouldn't last long.
It would go away as my brother parked the car and
as we all walked into the house.
We would all go do our different things,
in different rooms and
forget about what we just did, we would forget
about each other,
and sooner or later a fight would start and end with no one winning.
As I lay in bed I hold onto that moment that the world was perfect,
and I didn't feel so alone.

Cycling
High cadence
Low resistance
Tight corners
Horse class climbs
Mountainous descents
     Back up!
Horse class climbs?
At my current weight
More like fat *** climbs!

Cycling
No high calories
Low carbohydrates
Tight spandex
More practice climbs
Mountains want destroyed
      Go forward!
At my cycling weight
More like what climb?

DEstroy(of)er(whothe)

               earth


is slender waisted gaunt
pale skinny horsed
and short

                       in leggings
           (smoKING a hard
****)wiggles pink at the


folds and heaving
in youth


wears some glitter on her
over the balcony
*****

there is a man in a small voice with a tight hallway

he is waiting

he is waiting, his boy like dolleyes watering
in his tight voice
is small hallway

he is waiting

She's got hands like home
that open doors
when I'm alone.
Her arms are walls
that hold me close
with memories, sweetness
and all of the most
wonderful things
she has shown.
I swear I was homeless
till her hands like home.