...And the night deepens into swallowed thoughts and blurry vision. Every time you forget what it means to be human, the air gets cold, and bites you in the back of the throat. Inhale, hold, count to ten. It isn’t as it seems, and none of it exists anyway. It’ll fade into pale blues and grays with the morning light.

the diner closed down
a sign in the window
but i'm still hungry

you took the words of wise men on a whim
dug yourself out a nice shiny foxhole
to shelter from the ricochets of words best left unsaid
but your maw aches
and those wise words
fall fat and useless
so ******* anyways
I'll find my own wisdom
I'll be laughing in kingdoms of never more
once I find the right word

I'm not Shakespeare, not some romantic poet clad in flowers and doves
I'm no Fitzgerald, a dapper socialite at home with the intellectuals and aristocrats
I'd like to be Hemingway, a man in all senses of the word, guided by a certain wit and drive
Hell, I'd even take Bukowski, or Kerouac, drug addled and safe in the strength of my arrogance
I'm not your favorite department store
no recognizable brand
no jewelry
My love is not measured in the moments quenched with awe
no symphonies or trips to the opera house
In a dime store I trudge through the aisles of shelves
rummaging through the lost and found of people long forgotten and dead
I find a necklace, shells strung together on a piece of fishing line and I think of you
young and happy with a bucket and a *****
so curious as to the motion of the ocean, you slowly approach
only to run away - giddy in your fear - as the cold tide licks at your heels
digging up ***** to show to your Mom and Dad
I think of you, my hand clutching that Dime store necklace
I think of you now
Me so intrigued, I draw up my plans with tact
only to crumble before you
I am the shells you dug up
I am the fishing line your dad cut off for you
the knots he taught you to make
I am your lost and found
helplessly missing you always
I am your Dime Store love