let's talk about lonely nights
and even lonelier mornings
what is there to love in the
sunrise when you can't see
that beauty reflected in
someone else's eyes?
there's only poetry in windy rooms
and without someone to share a quiet
cup of coffee with.
------------------
I want to float home,
high heels in hand,
arm in arm with you
you
and your hippy music I love
you
and your quiet ways, my lips on
your cheek
you
and your bare chest
(and my number there, above your heart,
scrawled in sharpie)
and us surrounded by bodies
and the pull of the music
deafening in the crowded basement
obscure lagers and a young ego
temporary tattoos courtesy
of the stoop crew
earlier, in the parking lot,
voices calling my name from the dark,
the sound rising over our heads and shoulders,
the feel of it in the hollow of my chest
belonging
I want to grasp the sleepy pines,
I want to hold the ease of your language
I see and hear and feel
so much
Where does it all go?
stream of consciousness, jack, questioning
