Body is a difficult sister. And she loves her. And hides her somewhere in herself. Safe from harm. . She's barely coasting into a paycheck. Stuck on empty.
Garage sale, Saturday, I need to pay. My heart's outstanding bills. A cracked-up compass and a pocket watch. Some plastic daffodils. . The cutlery and coffee cups I stole.
He looked more like our fathers. Not a goalie, player, athlete period. Smoke, half-ash. Stuck in that permanent smirk. . Tugging jersey around the beer gut.
So your fields are stubble, garden's done. Where the scary scarecrow stands. Sees her holding up horizons with her hands. . She's so tired of reading 'Daddy's Lips'.
I have a headache, I have a sore back. I have a letter I can't send. I have desire, it falters and falls down. It calls you up drunk at three or four a.m..
Held like water in your shaking hands. Are all the small defeats a day demands. 10-6 or 9-5 trying, dying to survive. Never knowing what survival means.
My confusion corner commuters. Are cursing the cold away. As December tries to dissemble. The length of their working day. . And they bite their mitts off.
I changed the oils and oiled the squeaks. Patched the holes and fluid leaks. Left dust beneath a diabetic moon. . And way to take the TV crews. Across the creaking ice.
So you don't get to be a saint. Martyrs never last this long. Guess I'll never be the one to defeat desire in song. Here's a marker, here's my naked skin, our Exhibit A.
Measure me in metered lines in one decisive stare. The time it takes to get from here to there. My ribs that show through t-shirts and these shoes I got for free.
They called here to tell me. That you're finally dying. Through a veil of childish cries. Southern Manitoba. Prairie's pulling at the. Pant leg of your bad disguise.
Always will we find. I tried to make you love. 'Til every thing's forgotten. I know you hate that. . Bop badada, bop bop bop bop. Bop badada, bop bop bop bop.
When the bus-shelter windows. And napkin-dispensers surprise. With distorted reflections, it's never the someone. You're hoping to recognize. . And the rent is too high.
Always will we find. I tried to make you love. 'Til every thing's forgotten. I know you hate that. . Bop badada, bop bop bop bop. Bop badada, bop bop bop bop.
February always finds you folding. Local papers open to the faces. Who past away to wonder what they're holding. In those hands were never shown the places.
Instead of falling we stand up still smiling. so many places (?) no hiding. I know you always said 'life's too short for lying'. for you, I hurt, for you, I desert.
I want to call a request through heating vents,. And hear them answered with a whispered no,. To crack the code of muscles slack and tense,. Let every second step in boots on snow,.
We're all sitting on a space ball looking smart. Making babies, breaking hearts. Wasted maybe, we don't care. We are just a bunch of kids but we have a plan.
Doctors played your dosage like a card-trick. Scrabbled down the hallways yelling, "Yahtzee!". I brought books on Hopper, and the Arctic. Something called, "The politics of lonely".
I'm firm and calm with you in my arms. from heaven sent - the omniscient. and I'm depending on your fear. consolation in a strange way - dear. what you want, what you need.