The little green specks died
When we opened our eyes,
And you made a grave for them

You looked at me and asked,
"Why?"

That day we both cried
Knowing that fireflies could only last so long

Any brighter and
streams in the ditches
would look like Cuyahoga River
across Cleveland during the 1960's

There is no fire, only flies
who make bright their bellies
and flash for show like the perverts
in metropolitan inner city parks

Enticed to the flies, like moths
to the ceiling globes,
we gather jars and lids
with air holes hammered hard

No walking as we streak
along gravel roads built after WWII
when rationing was lifted
and road speeds jumped

Flies caught one by one
are smashed on white tees,
luminous signals for drivers
alert to the folly of our play

Our madness endures
until Ball  jars become
dim lanterns of joy for us and jail
for the bugs doomed


to die before daybreak
until swept from the garage
floor as we plot our assault
on airborne glimmers along
tonight's roadsides

The evening slips away
like fireflies through fingers.
Your eyes turn from the color of sand at twilight
to the indigo-blue of the ocean at night.

Our easy laughter sinks into
soft whispers
as the sky shifts from peach blossoms
to hushed velvet black.  

Your touch is no longer just soothing warmth.
I can feel the buzz of electricity
when your hand hovers nearer.

As stars replace the sun and those
lyrical night insects relieve the birds,
my heart changes rhythm to match your own.

Soon, the moon dangles overhead
and we run out of words at last,
our still lips meeting with sparks
that set the night ablaze.

nights like these the stars and fireflies look all the same
and my days become my dreams
well I learned where to go, but never where to stand
and I can't take a break from the world's weight leaning on me
because I am barely crawling through this life
but that's not the way this should be spent

No one would bother to read between the lines
I am and I was always be washed up
can't speak the way I never have
and I can only think to think less about my words
speaking with a heavy heart to throw away the sun

we learned what love is, but never how to feel it
and some people will never know

I want my Grandmother,
to be at my college graduation.
I want my Grandmother,
to write me letters while I'm away.
And if you won't let her,
Take me back to when I was a child.
Sitting in the sun on Grandmas lap.
Catching fire flies while she sat,
around a campfire with my Grandfather.
Telling stories of how they first met.
I want my grandmother.
Dear Cancer,
I want my grandmother.

I am standing on a hill
Where city lights become
Fireflies that lead me home
And stars are night lights for
Those who are afraid of their
Thoughts that only come out
After the sun has set
And I am trying to think of
All the times when
Words didn't work
And all the times
I used pain to remind myself
That I am still alive
And all the times
I let people
Break my heart
Just so I could feel
Something
And I think I have
Kissed more bottles than people
But either way I still end up
Drunk on the idea of love