only recently was I made privy to your anecdotes, those delightful doting derringers you throw towards me like a zephyr.  ah you, so tidy with you tongue.  yes, I suppose, I just hope one day I will learn the meaning of what I say

he steps back and holds his brow, worried and fighting his mind

please do not suffer sir, you will


the days gruesome and weary, the hours less so, we sat still and remarked upon the voyages of space and awkward endearing behaviors made less so by the distilled poison of your eyelashes.  I was kidding at first, but lastly not quite certain that we were held so firmly I was taken.

as the hours wore on and the gruesome wind became an unholy spirit, I was left adrift and spoke solemnly to those who needed the kind advice of a listener.  I was compassionate for those few minutes and felt that surge of pride at my ability to connect so sincerely with those I never will see again but I cried that night.  I cried because I was overwhelmed, like my own path in the windy storm that brought me here.

as I careened the corners of my boulevards and avenues, I became distinctly aware that the patterns I stepped over were like boulders sitting over us all, as if history were blurring the present, confusing my feet and my pace got quicker and quicker, realizing that as fast as the air could move, I could adjust and use that pace to my liking, speeding up or slowing down at will.

I laughed at myself for such mundane realizations, but realized that such realities are really real.  just like you.


I was there like usual, eyes bent forward, awkwardly groping the hands ahead of mine.  I was sitting there like the rest of them, little hands and feet, dimples under the brow, without the mentionable attitude, the desirable trait.  the trade winds worried my arms as they sunk to the floor, without my comfort I was left alone and regarded the room with the manic force of the marine.  he was my friend I thought.  he meant to do well.  I was wrong, as we all were.

later on the china was broken down and the walls were evaporated.   I was mentioned and still, and I was the fort of my own mind.  I was given to me.  I was the little man in the cupboard, still bending forward, still regarding my delight.  I was the eyelash and the neckline.  I was the amazing race, left to wither there, among the sidewalks. 

I was flying I said.  I said so and I meant more.  I meant more


eyes are golden I said, remembering my deeds.  I was a coward then I said.  I said I was dull, but I never meant to hurt the very face of equality.  I was tired and all that.  I kept saying the same words to you, but you don’t hear anymore do you?

so I said over and over again, endearing and sweet but kept away constantly, a fitful turn for sad sad songs I kept on track that day I said to him.

all over again, sitting aware and poignant like a daisy in the lowest scratches of the forest I said to her. 

so that was that.  a walk in the park and a hello there stranger I hate to ask but

the man ahead

I can only think of a few times when I was forced to remember own attitude towards the world.  many of those times I was blessed a futile attitude towards my own work.  I had no bearing or thought process regarding the talented tenants of my backwards renditions of the dramatic plague.  I was only trying to assert my own triumph and honor towards the blessed passengers I carry along.

I was only kidding I kept saying.  I was only kidding and only sure of my own inadequacy.  so I keeled over amidst the shrubbery and the poetry and I was told to keep to myself.  I was told to remember that I was not exactly the perfect dude myself.  I kept my honor and my agreement and held tightly to the slightest virtue I considered wholesome.  I bastardized the futility I felt and flew onward to the nearest rainbow. 

I was tired when I reached the top.  I was exhausted from flapping about constantly.  I was disgusted by my own progress and my own little lies.  I was honest.  I was not sure what that meant.  sometimes I had no perspective or reference or knowledge regarding any subsequent decision.  I still had to live.  I still had to leap and flap about and then there I was, with no ground beneath me, soaring.


eyes wide, my own fate gleaming ahead of me, i was tired, he was too, but i could do nothing.  i was felt and alone.  i was discouraged, but i was not the one they needed.  they had more and less and all together.  i was his friend i thought.  i would always be his friend.  many men were there i said.  many men had this opportunity to lead and win and fight.  i would never be alone again i said.  i would never die in that way.

i held on as long as i could.  i fought the good fight, the one drifters tell their nephews to remember.  that one day in the sun, when we were so young and true.  the poets were inside of our hearts then.  they had us the way our memories have us now.

i walked on.  i had no choice.  i could not turn back.  i promised myself i would not and could not turn back.  i had come so far and i wanted to keep riding, to keep the faith.  i wanted to remember that my mind was at ease.  not for love or faith, but for you.

my whole life the walls were biting my heart.  i was given the blasphemous duty of listening, of remembering and wondering.  i beheld such beauty, more than my comrades.  i was a keeper of the honey.  i would till the land and happen upon a daisy and without knowing how or why, i would find the land ready for me.  i crept underneath and fell asleep.  what dreams.  what wonderful dreams  i had then



his eyes gleaming, with power abounding, his fists laid to the right of the curve, with passion frothing forward, dipping towards the lights beneath him.  his hands like the world and the minds of his friends alone beyond the future.  we are here to fight he said.  we heard him with impunity and landed again towards the cloudy demeanor of his comrades’ faces.  their eyes were worse than our own.  we sat idly and let the people live.  we did not know what else to do.  we did not know how else to live.  we were tired.  we just wanted to live too.


listen closely as i spit the honest truth towards your windshield.  i get sincere compliments on my capabilities and my intrepid endeavors.  i sit idly while you and your comrades are hidden behind me, not quite expecting me to live but still wondering how on earth the world could sit still while we all wind down in our shoes and our shirts and our ties.

i do not know i say.  i say that i do not know that i do not know why or when or how or even if.  i pity the man who looks upon me with the smug disdain of the teenage generation.  the spoiled sports of the countryside with their economic cars and their splashy pants.  i hate that.

i wonder to the friends i hold closely and they laugh at my observations.  we all drink martinis and kill the uninsured for sport.  we are the wise ones.  we are not ignorant.  we know better.

in the light

his eyes are sparking into my own.  i sit endearingly while i manage the rhyme scheme in my hands, the microphone trembles as i sit up thoughtfully, not quite mistaking myself for the future of commerce, i am the jello pudding in the wider scheme.  i am not the virtuous cadaver, mistaking passivity for enlightenment.  yet i comment often and express disdain for the common vices of the lands i visit.

i am different they say, always.  i suppose so.

in fights

the hourly glasses in the cockroach, in the sitting den where the worlds collided, i ask you nicely for a match and a cigar.  you light my cigar and kiss your wife’s hands gently, reminding her that yes you are indeed a gentleman, not just some fad idiot with a mustache and an accent.

no not at all.  just a kind man with real business opportunities and the capacity to give as well as receive generosity.  yes just a kind fat man with bad cholesterol and a heart murmur that coughs and a wife that believes you because she hated herself too much to say yes or no to you.  you tell her where to eat how to dress how to talk and how to look at strangers.  you pimp you.

yeah i trust you.