after the time it feels good to
sigh, it feels good
to moan a little and die
a little, it feels good
to try a little (I have)
give a little more and
take what I can
get, it feels

good.

you give off
a sort of disgustingly wonderful sweet music.
I find myself humming it every time you pass me.

spill out your heart, sister,
show me you're warm inside,
show me you're not just a popsicle with a
hard center holding you upright

show me
please
show
me.

my house is haunted by the ghost of satisfaction
because we all want something bigger than us, bigger than
this town and bigger than the world.

when on the road I dream of home and when
at home I dream of leaving,
I can feel it slipping away
from me, now.

I'll sit until you come and tell me
that the walls are falling down,
that this town is burning
down.

I want you to see the hole in my shirt
where your heart went through like a Colt 45,
and opened a dream at the back of the neck.

Here,
let me unbutton it for you.

there you are:
shaking your fist as if it were a rattle and
aimlessly insulting the air
in front of you.

there isn't anyone blocking your view
of what just might be a good place,
if you let it, a good
moment or two if you
want them,
a good year
or so if you
work
for
it.

the rain begins first
                                     -timid

and the drops make no sound but
they are tiny bombs destroying tiny
countries destroying tinier cities and
even tinier
us as we
walk
                                     -unsuspecting

and kiss the cement with our
arrogance

I'm revving my engine and I expect
to see your *** in this velvet throne of
queens in one
second.

I'm just going to pick up a few things,
shampoo
toothpaste
a bag of cookies
and probably
a little perpsective with a side of
I-don't-give-a-****-anymore.

Sit down. Enjoy your free ride.
But please, don't talk to me about
getting laid and
getting paid and
things that shouldn't come out of a mouth so young.

You should be asking me when we're stopping at the park
because you want to see the sunset from on top of
the monkey bars (it's the best spot in town.)

You should be asking me
to drive faster because you can feel the adrenaline
rushing up through your throat and out in a shout,
making you feel even more alive.

You should be leaning out of the car window and
feeling the rush of wind in your hair buzzing through your body into your fingers
and down to your toes.

You shouldn't be asking me
for my phone number.