If I could ever count the cost
If ever I was at a Croc loss
Oh the inhumanity
If there were no Crocs upon my feet

No comfort for them to saddle in
No soft rubber sponge in which to grin
Whether Chinese made or Mexican
If you have not Crocked you have not lived

At the sight of Crocs it brings to mind
Who is the king of the foot line
When the rubber hits the hardened road
It is the Croc that's in the know

So take a ride and slip and slide
Inside the Croc you'll feel you died
And landed straight at heaven's gate
Where angels have Crocs on their feet

Do you still feel the need to ask
If Crocs are just a passing fad
You can ask my feet and my ten toes
They're the ones that are in the know

But their reply will be a muffled sound
As they're both inside my Crocs right now

Our house is a black box.
We drape every window

but one, a pinhole
to capture the sun.

At night our eyes go dark as ink.
Our memories marbleize at
the edge of the bedroom.

Come morning,
we are nothing

but inverted images
fed by shared light.

You tell me to smile
and I braid your hair.

Upstairs, the children
develop like ghosts.

I put on another record
and the dark disc spins,

its needle lulled
into grooves the way
you are lulled into me.

We could almost dance together,
but the couple at the window

will not move until
we come into focus.

An elderly lady had two large pots, one hung on each end of a pole that she carried across her neck. One of the pots had a crack in it while the other *** was perfect and always delivered a full portion of water. At the end of the long walk from the stream to the house, the cracked *** arrived only half full.

Every day the woman brought home only one and a half pots of water. Of course the perfect *** was proud of its accomplishments. But the poor cracked *** was ashamed of its own imperfection and miserable that it could only do half of what it had been made to do.

After two years of what it perceived to be bitter failure, it spoke to the woman one day by the stream. "I am ashamed of myself, because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your house."

The old woman smiled, "Did you notice that there are flowers on your side of the path, but not on the other ***'s side? Every day while we walk back, you water them. I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate the table. Without your being just the way you are, there would not be this beauty to grace the house."

QUOTE FROM LEONARD COHEN'S "ANTHEM": "There is a crack in everything. That's how the light gets in."

When you have got
an elephant by the hind leg
and he is trying to run away

it's best to let him run