When you slammed on the brakes and your rucksack tipped over in the backseat, my legroom flooded with your belongings-a sketchbook, your diary, and your father's favorite coffee mug-and the magic crystal we found in that haunted cave was carried out the open window.
The house was born with a doorbell on it's face and dogs where it's heart should be and if you ring the bell they go crazy.
All those words that tumbled out of
and onto the dashboard
and the floor
and the legs of my jeans
didn’t mean anything
But I don’t care
We embrace like
there are people who want us dead
who want to take our money
and we can't help but find them beautiful
Perhaps you will remember
the light touches
And it was,
for a time,
B a n a n a s.
I've spent a lot of time
searching books and records
for something I can't find,
but I know what Elliott Smith meant
when he sang about The Morning After.
And I know the Queen is Dead.
And Meat is murder.
Sometimes I think about how each moment
slips away and is gone forever
and my heart breaks.
I remember I bought you a ring.
Not for any reason, but
because you liked it.
You who have traveled the world
seen everything seeable
sucked in the flavors of
many different locales
never stopping to think you'll be a neighbor yourself
Does it occur to you
as you make
in the near dark of the hour where the world still sleeps
how much time you've spent signing your name
or buying drugs
or installing that car seat
He wept ceaselessly at dinner. He wouldn't tell anyone why. He claimed it was personal so that his colleagues would not question him further. Later he found himself alone at the hotel, and with the help of adorably small bottles of booze he was able to push the phrase "Endless breadsticks" from his mind, along with the images it conjured of breadsticks with truly no beginning or end.