His dry lips are smiling,
I see life in those eyes;
that died long ago
His vocals, always lying
Now talks about the truth of ages;
advice for times to go.

He is in joy;
This man who suffered alive,
Happily follows death's ploy.
As if his soul is gonna revive.

This man is not strange,
A profound reason, in his smile.
He will now meet her, of his age,
Whose demise, he rejected in denial.

How cruel she was
She left him in hurry;
Unable to mend death's laws,
Her hopes, he could only bury.

I was working,
Right on down at the sandwich shop.
When a dainty little lady landed at my counter,
With a twirl, a smile, and a sparkle too,
She parted her lips to let a beautiful sound through.
'Hey-ya sandwich man,
You're lookin' rather tasty,
And I'm one hungry girl.
Boy your sweet smile is gonna make me stay for awhile,
Mind if I get a taste babe?
Just a little sample of your loving,
Because a boy like you makes a girl go crazy!
Believe me baby, I didn't come for a sandwich fool,
I came to see if a could get a soda pop,
With a small side of you.'
Woo-ooo she made me drool!
A slender thing with bouncy curls,
You better believe she sent me for a whirl,
With her flicking lashes and skirt twirl!
I never thought I'd thank my old boss,
For taking me up to his old shop.
But with a skip and a hop,
I thanked cranky ol' pops.
Then I got going,
Cause she needed a strong hand,
To make sure hers don't drop.

It took 30 years

For me

To feel powerful

It may take

Another

To

Believe it

I have lived 30 years

Living 30 years of experiences

All of them the same me

You made me think
I’m bless’d~
The old-fashioned way
you’re dress’d.
My eyes are spellbound
And I’m fully obsess’d.

Lost in your thoughts
&
Lost in your way
My eyes
Are madly restless today.

he's getting old now, but still young enough
to buy self-help books he’ll read
only to stay on the treadmill
next to the other suburbanauts.
uses a fortune cookie slip as a bookmark
that just says run.

he's getting old now, but still young enough
to think he "found" someone—
someone as boring as he is,
and they swore to her readymade god
"to have and to hold" each other's
credit card debt and tangled mess of neuroses
‘til death of one kind or another comes.

he’s getting old now, but still young enough
to pretend it’s not happening.
cleans the gutters. trims the lawn.
drags his boat to the river every summer
to drink beer and lie in the heat—
like the sun will burn the years off.

he’s getting old now, but still young enough
to break down in the grocery store,
somewhere between the potato chips
and the popcorn,
crying onto the linoleum,
wiping his nose on his sleeve—
a quiet little implosion
under fluorescent lights.

he’s getting old now, but still young enough
to think he’s missing something.
like a dog still searching for the ball
that was never thrown.
like a flickering motel sign that just says
no vacan, no vacan, no vacan

he’s getting old now, but still young enough
to feel like a frozen dinner in the microwave—
burnt to hell on the outside,
ice-cold in the middle.

It's really easy to write
Like you're for the hardline right
And far-flung conspiracies.
Easy to address as a member of the left
Like you believe in extreme liberalism
And wild ideas.
And then there's a center,
Or so I've heard.
For the intellectual or versus,
For the institution or against;
For the fascist,
For the anarchic.

It's all so archaic.