The sound of clattering plates
as a voice in the kitchen yells
we gotta sailor walking in hot
and the waitresses walk around the place
always just beyond the breaking point
wearing voices which say
we hope you have a great night
the plates they clatter
as the men at the bar grow drunker
as the redskins lose yet another game
No sir,
we regret to inform you
that you can not take your beer home with you
in a kiddie sized to go cup
the plates clatter
as the bus boys and dish crew
bounce to Mexican hopping beats
bustling and jostling their way through the six tops
a cart full of leftovers and the crayon drawings of little kids
seven o’clock sees the dinner rush
come and go
and still that sound
the endless clattering of plates
as quitting time rolls around
and a hundred people throw a hundred exhausted punches
at the same juggernaut of a clock
as they always have and always will
outside fresh air smells chemical
and in the car
alone on the ride home save for the passing
of headlights: strangers navigating the same dark
you still think you can hear it
the clattering of plates

I first saw you walking down the street
I don’t know when you first saw me
maybe at home
in the mirror of your memory
maybe in the pages of the book
you were reading outside in the winter
at that cafe
You had me all smiles
and I had you
all similes
a pretty little thing
to stroke my pretty little thing against
You in your fashionista bombshell outfit
me in my childlike excitement
as I walked on past
and I wonder
if later that night
you were in your bedroom
which is just as messy as mine
I wonder if you thought to yourself
“well hot ****, that was one hot ****** guy”
if not that’s fine
my words are subjectively an object of your subject
Does that make sense?
I seem to do that a lot
rambling over myself and over myself
as if you caught me in a lie
I hadn’t yet told
I hold on to the belief
that You caught me in the corner of your eye
and decided to save me for later
It’s the only thing us passing strangers
have really got

The clocks all struck midnight
but that’s okay when you work nights
for a pocket full of singles
and a paycheck which never seems quite enough
come buy the painkiller
the rain won’t stop falling
until you do
and at times when grey cloud curtains
part to show you that
heaven isn’t
you’ll be glad for that liquid encouragement
and those knee pads
because this parking lot is gravel
and that small lot will never be a park
where kids can play without stepping on
the shards of broken hail mary prayers
for all the times the hands pass go
and collect their 2000 sea shells
not much has changed

What is love?
Love is the tingly feeling I get when our skin touches.
Love is the butterflies I get when we lock eyes.
Love is the overwhelming warmth I get when our lips meet.
Love is the endless thoughts and day dreaming,
It is my newly formed lack of sleep,
It is the best thing in the world,
A preview of heaven.
Love is a journey of friends getting closer,
An i wouldn't want to spend it with anybody but you.

Hey you,
I love you.
And your
Fascination
In Pink floyd.*

a.s.

I think of you
When darkness swirls around me
Like a turbulent storm
When every breath seems to tax my soul
When dispair is my constant shadow
I think of you
I hear your voice
Feel your skin upon my own
I smell your scent
Your pain is my own
Your fear is my best friend
And even though all hope
Seems to have seeped from the world
I still think
Of you.