Can’t reverse
The rain is weepy
Barrel chested
Sloshing whiskey
Slowly nothing
Only list the(e)
Inner conflict
Conviction twisting
Falls on a tune
Octoberishly
Denial, wild,
Nihilism
Old soul
With a child’s wisdom
shut me up
Just throttle it some
Chrysler family
Blame the pistons
courtroom counsels
Intermissions
We stand the trial
Of your own symptoms

i might

fall for you

as

times new roman

falls off a typewriter

eases itself onto

8x11

how tinsel clouds

relax their shoulders

over the mountaintops

you knew

and your grandpaw knew too

i might rest my head that way on your chest

while the vinyl record needle

trudges through the black snow

crackling underfoot

your heart might sing to my buried ear

something like that

yeah

something like that

i have my grandfathers hands

these things that have built a lot

he passed them on

and i didn’t know

i didn’t know

i was looking for gifts

i was born into

something middle-

middle-class

and all along

all along

i’ve failed to look at these dreadful things

these beautiful ******* digits

and sometimes clumsy

heirloom’d palms

like a gift in my grandfather’s trunk

thank you

old man

on occasion, I tell people about

my trip

when i came here

the stars did not

a

l

i

g

n

but now that i’m here

i’ll be looking for it

dear iron maiden

leatherette bound spine

worn blue dress

gaslight district cafe smile

eighth floor

ninth floor

whatever

i’m here

four doors down

knocking on

thrift store loneliness

that you just can’t give away nowadays

we

dare polaroids

point and laugh

but not of mockery

catalog pictures

a galaxy or two

more panoramic for any shutter

wide angle lens

a thousand batted lashes

and double takes

i’m easy to capture

and purposely left behind

like a coffee cup beyond the windowsill

beneath the screenprint letters

(and) for your eyes

——————————-

wednesday

Foolish.

And sometimes I’m so easy,

As to kiss beneath the Midnight Cowboy,

Half-collapsed in the doorway,

Of the 2:05 a.m. sort,

All the shadows become a third party,

And as we’re doing something foolish,

In the running of a population of fools,

Ignore the stampede,

Kiss the droves goodnight,

Wave, whatever-

Just don’t remove

Anything intertwined

Of me.

And you.

I am an apology for waking a man sleeping on a busy street’s sidewalk.
i am an apology for not being able to take a compliment.
i am a preface that might mean a **** thing some day.
in that same preface, I’m a rally cry for our future, for good.
I am a really good cry.
I am a footnote for an apology, an exponent and “:Really Sorry.”
I am sorry¹.
——————————————
¹ : Really Sorry.