Morning to me is watching the boy eat
while I impatiently tap my book
with a pencil.

Singing,
"Excess ain't rebellion
Your drinkin' what they're sellin'..."
while he painstakingly tries
to play air guitar and grab strawberries
at the same time.

My favorite time of day
is when it's too early to lie to myself
in small ways,
or even in positive ways.

Makes the dew damper felt,
though the coffee more disgusting,
sunlight brighter,
though shadows darker,
secrets less loud,
though truth remains quiet and tired

Tossed into the muddy reservoir of bad choices.
You are the words coming back to haunt me.
You are those voices.
I am all the times you thought you knew better;
I am the constant reminders.
I am the torn up love-letter.

The unread magazines that hide your drawings.
The bitter, black coffee
that picks me up in the mornings.
The way the sun comes out earlier this time of year;
And how the rain comes and hides, and obscures
the tears.
The hello's and goodbye's,
forced
and insincere.
And the voice that whispers:
"It's alright,
have no fear."
And the other voice that whispers other things
I'd rather not hear.

I am all the decisions you wish you hadn't made.
You are every note,
out of tune
or misplayed.
You are the soundless symphony;
the forgotten serenade.

You are the one I haven't met yet.
The rising of the moon
and the falling of the sun set.

I am the poems never read,
and the songs never sang.
I am door never opened;
the telephone that never rang.

We were the story never told,
and the feelings never shared.
The ones that didn't live to ever grow old.
The empty box, written with the words
"Handle with care."

And for a moment I'm a gazelle
who hasn't yet fallen
to a lion's teeth
For the night I give in
to the stampede
and--this time for good--keep going

Going, going,
wind beaten as a sailor,
though I may be
flying the way a peacock does
(It's only a feeling, like peace is to a dove)

Let me say something
about the animals--
they keep going, too
They keep going for us
(I am no vegetarian, but sometimes,
instead of meat, I only need
to eat dust.)

For the same reason, I go on
until fed to something larger
than this small person inside
And, like an animal, I don't ever
feel the need to cry

Ribbons calling against the wind,
stronger than our fences.
   Ribbons crawling to our feet
speak of our potential--
   They break our defenses

Tuesday's got a broken hot rod
It drives too slow, or doesn't go
Tuesday's got a lazy day ahead,
has creativity at best
has no productivity
but many things to arrest
And she's not only a loner
driving on a road,
she just doesn't want an answer
wants to keep her glow
Where is it?
Not where she thinks it is
Not in the trunk
not in the birdcage with the canary
not in the pistol in her kiss
Where is Tuesday going?
Not to Wednesday, that's for sure
Thursday's daydream makes her
unable to settle down anymore
She smiles, the sun is setting
If only Tuesday could learn to fix
that broken hot rod already

I'm not going to be able to see you soon
I love it when you get a new song
And the rest of my favorite thing about it is not the same thing as the first place we went
The fact is that I don't know if you want me
The fact is the best way
For a long day
Is to make it so hard for us to reconcile

I'm not sure how I can see you soon
The only person who has been in my head
Hurts like the new version
Of a sudden urge to watch something burn
I love it when people are going out
I love it when I'm not going to be able
To see my friends and the other day
I didn't even get a job
Like I said I had