Tonight there's a star in the sky
That refuses to die
I've got some stories to tell
I hope somebody waits for me
To come along and be their pal

i had a dream
and it wasn't a daydream.
oh, i don't know where it started
just that you where there
a tulip beneath this sky
eyes locked with a lock of clouds
i was there by you and i knew
just knew.

didn't know i was dreaming
so i took your hand
your hair brushed my cheek
a lock of clouds
and i thought i was dreaming.

when the clock didn't tick
our hearts beat as one
our breaths, a symphony
we, a lock of clouds
floating, soaring
there was no place where we ended and the world began.

we locked fingers before the falling dusk
when our hearts were flowing over
so we bled and dyed the sky a sunset
oh, the skies, those locks of cloud
two flames.

oh, we'd sail, you said
off to the edge of the stars
we'd fall, lose ourselves
to the notes of the beyond
because what matters but you; what matters but i?
so we were wanderers of worlds
we were fugitives from home
we were, we were
till every spell broke
as the day awoke

i still feel a remnant of our embrace
beneath my sternum, a tad to the left
you'll always be the sweetest candle
wafting, wafting
a lock of clouds.

'cause you're the happiest i've ever been.

do i still love you?

maybe i never stopped

because on the list of those i miss

you were always at the top

My dad and I would spend sunny afternoons
riding our bicycles
through my suburban neighborhood.
We would ride down my street
until we reached the sidewalk that diverged into two paths
and neither of them were less traveled by
as we always ended up taking both.
The right path leads to the small waterfalls
just past the basketball court
where my brothers and their friends
would play pick-up games.
Riding across the tiny bridges is a moment of brief bliss
as the sounds of the water rushing reaches your ears
and drowns out everything else.
We’d maneuver to the giant lake
filled with brightly colored kois
and serene storks standing out on the rocks.
Following the curve of the water
we would end up in a private neighborhood
where the blacktop is so shiny and smooth
that your wheels glide across the entire street.
And you can go fast
since it’s silent
and no cars come barreling down the road.
Somehow, we’d end up at that beginning sidewalk
and now it’s time to go to the left.
Over here, there’s a small playground
where my dad would chase my siblings and me
and I would hide in the tube of the slide.
We could spend hours there
on our spaceship
trying to outsmart Darth Vader and the dark side.
Just past the park, we’d reach the stretches of green belts
lacing their way through the streets
and the bushes I flew into
when first learning how to ride my bicycle.
We'd take a left after the dip in the sidewalk
ending up back on our street
and deciding that it’s getting late
once the sky turns pink and orange.
We’d end up back at the cookie-cutter house
that I don’t live in anymore
but part of it is still mine.
I wonder if the kitchen is still red
and if the guest bathroom still smells like lemons.
I contemplate knocking
only to remember that there’s a new family living there
making memories in our pool
and playing in the basement.
I smile, hoping that maybe
they will ride the same sidewalks I grew up on.
I paste these memories into a poem
but there is really no need
because remembering the twists and turns
of my old neighborhood
is just like riding a bike.

the days have different names
but don't deserve them
each one falls again the same
my body knows what to do
so I let it ride mindless