The Electric Runabout

Learn how new
The old new things seemed,
And understand the veil
That hides us from ourselves

We’re all dropped into
The middle of stories,
We all have roles
With inconsistent characters

When the lights are flashing
And the music’s pumping,
We move because
That’s all life is —

Sometimes.

Did you once shake
The hands of time?
Have you betrothed
To many things?

You feel the chlorine
In your eyes,
That remnant there
That always stings

And you have proved
A feckless friend
Who drinks too much
And laughs too loud,

Enamored with
Your vanity,
You walk the high way
Of the proud,

But parametric
Overtones
Have strengthened your
Endeavor

To draw an audience
Of one.
How decorous,
How clever.

You reach
Your shoulder-circling arm
Around to your next
Would be —

And all of it
Is just so you,
While none is
As it should be.

So learn how new
The old things seemed
When they were first
Seen newly,

And just how empty
All can be
When you cannot live

Truly

bent like fortune’s favorite twigs

she drank him like her favorite bedtime drink
the party down the hall was overplaying blink 182
and he was johnny walker red down to his curling toes
and bent like fortune’s favorite twigs
they rode the wind the blast the everlasting bit
of neverlanding planes that skim the surface of
the runways that could never give them rest

… rain and strange

The day.

The day was full of rain and strange
Whereby the streets lay soaked and mad;
I paced about with winnowing mind as
That which ( I ) no longer had

Came sinking without concepts through
Which one could find a word to say;
The world was tired, so was ( I ) –
And full of rain and strange, the day.

And one remembers, one drank tea:
How very odd a memory –

The pressing ache of no goodbye,

The loss of

[ you ]

 
the end

 
of

 
 
( i )

somewhere, beyond

i somewhere loved where you beyond

as elbows scraped against the clouds

and seldom echoes skimmed the pond

as showed off they their final shrouds

 

i do not rave or scan the skies

for last you night the score was known;

as where the we storm rages, cries,

sits one some we you i

alone

… full of words and tales

i kissed you once out
here beside these trees, and
in soft regret your eyes were
turned inward, towards that part
of your life invisible to all but,
or even and, yourself

but the memory is not the
kiss, it is the look and the
feel of your face as i touched
it, brushing the hair back
off your forehead, appraising both
the moment and the look in
your eyes

but what is frozen often
melts, if enough time passes, and
only now do i recognize something
like fear mixed with your
longing – for while you felt something
for me, i was a strange, unpredictable
creature in your eyes, full of
words and tales

and the stories you knew
best always ended up being
scary ones: perhaps this was
a false setup to a frightening
ending – you weren’t sure

but i mistook that look for
a bad grade, and

dropped the class