I am loud,
Demanding attention.
I know when I am being charming
Because I try.
I put on my impressing face
And do my impressing hair
And speak my impressing words.
I tell you my embarrassing drinking stories
And everything else about me
That you probably shouldn’t know.

I am not good at being quiet
Because that’s not who I am.
I am not the sweet girl
Who will leave you with a smile
And a touch
And a glance
Or a single word.
There is nothing of this fashion of romance
About me.

I am the girl who will point out your flaws,
And take you outside to see the stars,
And remind you how human you are,
And what a wonderful thing that is.

I am the girl who will talk about science,
And music and theology and history,
And point out constellations, laughing,
When you don’t know the big dipper’s name.

I am the girl who will make witty references,
To classic literature and science fiction,
And will tell you stories of how I once,
Made a gingerbread replica of a lighthouse.

I am the girl who will stand on a table,
And sing at the top of my lungs on the highway,
And act like a chicken or quail or velociraptor,
Or nuzzle your face like a lion to make a point.

I am the girl who takes too many shots
And then coaxes you to bed on a Russian liver,
And knows all the right places to bite, and tease,
And follows with exceptionally coherent pillow-talk.

I am not a thin silk scarf on the wind.
I am not a thing hard to capture.
You would not spend a perilous journey
Through a wild, perfumed jungle,
Searching for my slender garments
Hung beside a pool
As I wail to the breeze.

Rather, I am the bird who flies overhead
Making too much noise
Distracting from the trail ahead.
A bird whose plumage proves
What an interesting life it must be…
What a colorful life for me…
Perpetually strange
The lone comic relief.

I am many things.
But I am not quiet.
Of this I am sure.

it is easy to forget
how to write or
how to love or
how to clip your nails or
play guitar or
pick out cereal or
enjoy a sunny afternoon

happiness unfolds for
so many like a miracle

the simplicity of it all
escapes them

There is a question I must pose
Where do spirits get their clothes?
For if you saw a naked spirit
Would you really venture near it?
Most ghosts we see are all in white
While other ghosts, they dress up right
They show up dressed for all to see
Decked out in all their finery
So, where do spirits get their clothes
It's a secret no one really knows
They can't just wave a magic wand...
They shop at Bed, Bath and Beyond!!!

When I was young and bold and strong,
Oh, right was right, and wrong was wrong!
My plume on high, my flag unfurled,
I rode away to right the world.
"Come out, you dogs, and fight!" said I,
And wept there was but once to die.

But I am old; and good and bad
Are woven in a crazy plaid.
I sit and say, "The world is so;
And he is wise who lets it go.
A battle lost, a battle won--
The difference is small, my son."

Inertia rides and riddles me;
The which is called Philosophy.

Rules remain unwritten
They're known but left unsaid
You don't speak ill will of someone
Especially the dead

Keep off the grass
don't dare go there
Don't touch
and put that down
are nothing when you
hold them to
the people in the ground

You never ask a soldier
If he's seen somebody die
You will not get an answer
But, you see it in their eyes

They live with this deep secret
It burns a hole inside their heart
So, don't ever ask this question
Don't put the horse before the cart

Your grandad, earned our freedom
As did many others too
They fought for future generations
that means they fought for me and  you
Freedom is a concept
One that many do not get
It's a thing taken for granted
And that should make us all upset

The battles that they went through
both in real time and their mind
For a concept such as freedom
To which so many remain blind

You never ask a soldier
If he's seen somebody die
You will not get an answer
But, you see it in their eyes

Be grateful and respectful
To show they did not die in vain
don't ever ask a soldier
Don't make him show his pain

The two of us staring
At the stars in the sky
Making wishes on comets
And things that fly by

What will we be like?
Where will we live?
We will we both be successful?
Will we both take or give?

Questions unanswered
Questions not asked
Some are worth knowing
Some left in the past
Go in with eyes open
Your life will be grand
Just give it your damndest
And go lead the band

In the back of the pickup
My girlfriend and me
Make dreams upon stardust
At a quarter to three

We're out in the cornfield
In my old chevy truck
Planning out lifes direction
On a stroke of good luck

Questions unanswered
Questions not asked
Some are worth knowing
Some left in the past
Go in with eyes open
Your life will be grand
Just give it your damndest
And go lead the band

It may be a spaceship
That's come down from afar
Or we may be there wishing
On some shooting star

Our future is waiting
There'll be tough times ahead
Meeting those expectations
We made in that truck bed

Questions unanswered
Questions not asked
Some are worth knowing
Some left in the past
Go in with eyes open
Your life will be grand
Just give it your damndest
And go lead the band.