I have lifted your couches
and swept your floors
and painted your walls
and listened to your stories repeat
like a
scratched up 45
I have known you for years
and put up with your ups
and your let downs
and red wine nights
and your sleep all days
I have watched you
change from frenetic and young
to someone always looking
over their shoulder
at the blur of years
like fast moving faces in passing trains
you have had me
running in circles
trying to catch some
flying bouquet of pleasure
so that I might
offer it to you
and only now do
I question
our vaudeville
song and dance
but the only
answer I can
find is written between
the laugh lines
etched under
your eyes
and the answer
is yes
I can give you
a ride to the store
tonight
you crazy, wonderful
car wreck of a woman
Sweet Nothings
Maybe she tells you
she never did this before
or she doesn't do it all the time
or this is the craziest thing
she ever did
maybe you are the first
or the first in a long time
and she never expected this
and was certainly not looking for it
but you seemed familiar
like she had known you for a long time
"and sometimes", she says
"things happen"
maybe she means what
she says, or maybe
she doesn't even understand
her own actions
in any case
who cares...
you just got lucky
The Voice inside
My inner voice is telling me
that this moment
has potential to tear the
fabric of my being
and hang it up
to dry like dirty laundry
in a run down neighborhood
the tingles that I feel
are actually warning signals
that danger is holding
my hand and
planning to walk
me past the park
to the plank
then push me off
into shark infested
waves of emotion
a couple of things
you said, have been
like red flags, yet I
speed on, heart
drag racing, wearing
goggles of adoration
my feet pushing
the pedals of roses
and innocent bystanders
are getting
ready to say
I told you so
and the self-help
section
of the bookstore
will be there for me
when I am ready
but for now
I am burning in
the brush
fire of your
hair
until disappointment's
downpour
puts me out
