i want to wake up at 3 am in the morning
and watch you slumber
with the world
which only us created '

from the balcony view,
I see my youth.
half thrown to dust,
and half of recovery.
I see the rich among
the solitude,
and the dirt on
young feet.
I see smiles of ignorance,
young ignorance to
fade with age.
and the white collars
comporting in peace,
completely aware of the tilted
lives held.
the big to eat
their derelicts,
and the small with
intense perceptive.
from this balcony view,
I see our traffic,
going absolutely nowhere.

I always thought
orange moonlight
from the corner of an
apartment, painted white's,
window was the best kind
of beaming beauty.
spring colored, natural light,
nothing else. it's beauty I ruin
with my idle self,
for I'd love to be spread on
the trimmed, moist grass,
enjoying the smell of nature's cut.
rather I'm slummed alone
on this paperback writer,
the moon glowing,
the glass a fourth empty,
The Beatles playing,
and the peace I need.