Tonight was the first night the stars were moving and I wasn't.
I was lying on a brick wall separating me from myself
while you were living in a tree house.

Who calls at midnight?
The lonesome rider looking for his soul.

I drank you through a straw,
not to prove you are a chameleon
but to show you the dance of the chameleon.
I move my hands too much as I dance through the fire.
I have to dance to make sure I'm still here.

Why do people still climb onto their roofs?
To distance themselves from their bedrooms.

A car can be empty when filled with gasoline.
Burning rubber on burning cement on burning money.

How can the gas burn in the spring?
Watch any teenager unzip their pants.

I can only sleep with a pillow on my back.
Reassuring me that I am not alone in my fully empty bed.
I've hung crosses sideways to understand art.
I am not right or left or up or down or oblique or black or white.

Why do people change their names?
To prove that they can change and still be who they are.
Which is what they are.
They are the same changes.

Why do people write birthday cards?
To mail to your relatives,
not your family.

Why do you close your eyes when you kiss?

Why do you cook for one and eat for two?

How can a tree bend in the sunlight?

Why do you say I love you and not look me in the eyes?

You're not Jesus Christ.
You're Peter.