Pass

sometimes I see you
on the street

you pass me
on the street

and I think
yes
yes you are the one
yes
you should be with me
yes
you with me
together
yes
you are the one

my lover
my friend
my new york romance

yes

you pass me

Things

I’m getting so tired of things
So many things
Books, CDs, DVDs
Electric things
Things that make noise
White plugs in my ears
4gb, 8gb, 10gb, 60gb
So tired
Of things

Out There

there’s some thing i’m looking for
some thing out there that i’m looking for
some thing I need
some thing
and i can’t say what it is
i don’t know what it is
but it is out there
I know
I believe
i have to believe that it’s out there
somewhere

The Happiest Place on Earth

so, you love me again
you’re in love with me again
and you look at me like a kid
like a little kid
in love with daydreams

and me
I’m looking at you like a man
looking at you
and asking myself
what am I doing?
and telling you that I’m scared
frightened that you’re not really there anymore
and maybe I’m not either

and I think about the kid who hugged me from behind
as we went up
up the mountain
waiting to drop
from the happiest place on earth
before he knew that I knew how much we were the same

Advertisement

Stepping

Sometimes, when I’m walking through a crowded place, a mall or somewhere, I try to lift and place my feet without making a sound so that I can’t hear myself.

And sometimes I am able to disappear this way.

A Month of Sundays

what does it mean, “a month of sundays?”
you said you felt like you hadn’t talked to me for a month of sundays.
i’ve been around.
but, oh, that’s right, it’s been so crazy for you. so many things to do for this and that and maybe you’re telling the truth.
i used to do so many things with you but now you do them without me and tell me how you feel like you haven’t talked to me for a month of sundays.
i’ve been around.

you know, i can’t even write you poetry.

Script

Script there are times when everything you say sounds like a line from Casablanca and i wonder if it really matters that i keep going away i am pulled out into the ocean by the waters taking hold of my footprints washing them away from the place where i stood just before this moment there are words that i never say to you because they are words i need to keep for myself words about mermaids about singing about water crashing on the rocks this is a tale too familiar call me Ishmael

Don’t Get Around Much Anymore

wondering why i don’t write anymore — wondering what has changed — what is gone

i think of them all and i read about them and sometimes i hurt myself thinking about them — but they’re so far gone from me now — so much a part of the pastures

grass withers and dies whether it’s in the soil or mowed

The Atmosphere It Leaves Behind

like fingerprints on a glass
a knife
an open wound
tattoos
names of faces I’ve tried to forget
tried to push

out of my mind
do I hold on
or do I not let go?

letting go
odd dollars

Picture

You’ve just left. “I don’t like seeing you like this,” you said.
Neither do I.

could you hold me sometime
like tonight
and let me rest there
let me stay there for a thousand days
and you’ll wipe away all the tears that roll down my face

if i could only forget
if i could only let go of the memories of you in my life
in my arms
sleeping beside me
and the sleeping dreams in your smile
all the plans that i had for us

you haunt me

could you hold me sometime
like tonight
and let me rest there
let me stay there for a thousand days
asleep beside your dreams