If bells never ring for you
When you leave through open doors
I'll stand on the other side and cheer
And if the lights never shine for you
As you stand upon an empty stage
I'll smile brightly as to comfort you
If treetops reach too far above
When you try to climb their age'd branches
I'll hold you up, no need to fear falling
But all this could be trivial
For how could we determine fate
And what might we feel later on
Shall I be as forgiving then?
With ample heart I love you now
And I suppose I will tomorrow
But times do change
And I'm known to be volatile
Though I'd never hurt you
And I could never hurt him...
I suppose I wane decidebly indecisive
Too troubled to say I love you straight

It's been one boring, restless, ***** of a drive through this sunken state. I click the windshield wipers off as they smear verdigris across my polarized vision, the FM stereo crackles and hisses in dissonance
with moaning, squealing brakes. My four cylinder fishtails ever so slightly as tattered tires nick and skid through puddles of *** the cumulus left behind after ******* the sun, which is crying now as it falls to sleep. Driving mechanically, I let my thoughts wander as I meander along I-4.

*You and I, we've never known what it means to perfect our chapters, to get into each little cavity, or between two immaculate ribs. We'd like to simplify all of that to one line, to reduce the dimensions rather than revel in their story. To see with six eyes or live as a termite within the wood grain is really all the same. But you know, we haven't finished yet simply because we are not finished yet. Some of us yet insist they hold on to the rotting shreds of a dying breed, a generation gone gangrene, their fingers in their feces.

But we know how we want it to be. Humanity will be different for you kids, we promise.

Sometimes I wonder what you ever have seen in me,
You stayed for 30 years, through thick and thin,
Enduring all my flaws, loving patiently,
Despite my disappointments and my sins.

It hasn't been an easy road, I know,
I've put you to the test more times than not.
I've been a less than stellar beau,
I wonder did you ever want me shot?

I'm sloppy, weak, unkempt and always late,
I haven't been the best at earning cash.
Could this be what you wanted in a mate?
I often think I've made our life a hash.

I know I make you laugh once in awhile;
Is that enough to keep you coming back?
A chuckle here, an unexpected smile,
Does that make up for everything I lack?

I hope I give you something more than that,
Perhaps a sense that life is not so grim.
A lift in spirit, a peppy morning chat,
Something to make you shake your head and grin.

My contribution to our life is small,
Diversion and distraction certainly,
A joke or two, a pratfall, that is all
I've learned to do, I'm sure you would agree.

You've given so much more to me it's true.
A rock, an anchor, a shelter from the gale.
One thing's certain, I can count on you;
You have a love that never flags or fails.

I'm grateful for you every single day,
There's not an hour goes by that I don't wonder why,
You've stuck so long with me, but anyway,
You did, and till the very day I die
I'll say a prayer to God above,
Thankful for your crazy stubborn love.

I'm sad
But not in that way
I write to relieve my thoughts
Not my woes
I breathe
And my heart beats
I do not wish for either to stop
I am alone
But only from the cause of my own
I choose to do
the self-harming things I do
But I do not cut
I ride skateboards
And motorcycles
This is not a cry for help
Simply a look into the life of a loner

I was sitting with you.
Edging the parking structure,
you told me that when you were young
you would lose your shoes and run away
here.

You danced atop the concrete slab,
and I wondered if I could jump
to the next building, if I tried.

I remember telling you about scents that night.
How everybody had one.
How they usually smelled like their families.
How your house always smelled sweet.

I remember saying that when I went into your house
for the very first time,
I could taste the cinnamon in the air,
as if your mother made cakes
for birthdays and Christmas
and coming homes and going aways.

I remember asking you what my scent was.
You said that I didn't smell like anything, really

and I thought that maybe you hadn't understood,
but now I figure you did.
You were probably trying to say,
in your cryptic way, quoting your own poetry,
that I didn't have a family to smell like.

I just wonder when, exactly
for me at least,
you started smelling like salvation.

the eTablets from Mt Sinai
those from on High
they weren’t working
so Current Moses held them high
and he said:
“Anybody knows how to
work these things?
I was never good at Technology,
much less these new eTablets!
Nobody makes them work -
I'll smash them to smithereens!”

The Technician whom
they called to service
was a ****** migrant, a heathen
a pacifist
and a non-believer at that  
And he examined the tablets
and he declared his prognosis:
*“I can see it’s lost its power.
I see too it’s made in China –
I’m afraid it doesn’t come
with a warranty either.
Next time, for software and hardware
try Mongolia, or get your stuff all from India”