the chances were slimmer
than sedentary average joseph
clamoring above car horns
in the streets
on the streets
under the streets
as lust stains sheets
and calls itself love
were we always mistaken?
these songs that all sound the same
these meager scrawls on canvas
these silver screens
fade to red
and you pray to the sky
so that this last word still to come
so that it might be your masterpiece
so that you need never be forgotten

the way that children run
fleeing the crest of a wave
even in their most invincible state
they couldn’t be touched by the depths
and so it goes
I notice their eager screams of delight
striding toward the thing they most dread
the man with spear in hand
claiming the dirt beneath his feet
does he know it will someday claim him?
I’ve come to crave the fragility of it all

I can only hope you’re still out there
dying under the same sun I see

there are worse things than heartbreak
but there’s nothing better

my mother never taught me how to fly
because ladies don’t use their wings
and neither do I