Across the sky, dauntlessly, watching,
Shoes in cigarette stems while I
Wonder what flight's like.
Would I transition softly with the means?
Wingspan cutting resistance leaving me freedom
to fall, or better, to land when I see
earth worth tasting in the air around
mirrors in sanctuary.

Across the ground, dauntlessly, watching,
Shoes in cigarette stems while I
Observe my life like
Stone in the wind, steady as the leaves blow
Leading and closing the shows before and after
to end, like weather, and begin again
Forces to withstand time while I walk
sit, or lie where I go

What it looks like
What it is
Ends and means,
unanswered wishes
What it looks like
What it is
Ends and means
within reach will I take,
Palms wide open

it's pretty enough
to yawn in the morning, lazily
watching you laid on bed
stroking your hair gently;

I'm still not sure if you understand
that the beauty isn't in sleeping
with a woman but in
waking up beside her

and now you open your eyes
with all these morning sounds
we two staring each other
as if this moment would never ends

and all I can see is
a surrounding you
by thousands means
and a feeling
that amazes things

In person body language for the quickest returns
and obvious signs of disinterest and distress
Telephones for voices; plain, animated, or faking it
Letters for gesture, or a classic long slow catch up
And texting...
I know you got it
I may even know you read it
What's your excuse for delay?



Perhaps a brain lapse, perhaps some monotonous busyness
Perhaps I'm now an ignored fad, maybe you got better plans
Yet, could it be, our collective muscle memory pines for saying things by other means?