Tuesday, April 10, 2012


the night was humid...
and it reminded me
somewhere in that place between dusk and midnight
the way the light hit things
reminded of things
things that are beautiful that we forget are beautiful
the inside of an elbow
the inner arm / but not the under arm
the inner thigh / where is the outter thigh?
the curve of a neck
and how it connects
to an ear
and smells
like the smell of a cedar deck
after the rain
and tastes
like how you anticipate caramel to taste on top of whipped cream
before you've stuck your finger in it
and feelings
like the feeling of "it was only a dream"
after a bad one
less is more
yes is more
no means never
and maybe means sure
the girl is a gun
things we know that are beautiful that we do not forget
a symmetrical face
a four beat rhythm
a rainbow
a rhyming poem
but all of these, you see, are boring
we like the pretty ugly
freckles, gap teeth, grey eyes, soft speak
if you have something to say
you don't have to shout it
if they know it's worth knowing
they will listen without it
no need for bang bang
but the girl is a gun
and the gun is her fun
and her secret and her last resort
and if you drive her to it
she'll use it
snort snort
but a pocket is a hiding place
and that girl there has the symmetrical face
and so everything is beautiful and boring again
twenty is even and twenty five too
and when they're all lined up in little white tubes
strike a match burn the last
breath out to that imperfect star speckled sky
america, america
watch timed airplanes fly by
and wonder where might they be going
America, America
"do you like baseball?" he asked me
"yes," I said. then I added, "with the right amount of beer"
....the night was humid

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