We began at an 8 lane intersection.
How can laughter be so awkward, off pitch and lacking.

17 minutes, blood on the tracks.
Wind blows in
through the yellow curtains of a taqueria.
I have finally exhausted you.

You went to get yourself a vehicle,
a little rust, no radio.
You'll get far enough.

I stay focused on the hill behind my new place.
High enough to keep out the fog,
growing along the peninsula.

13 minutes, playing songs with bongos
and chanted words.

I am foolishly leashed to the Great Lake.
But you know how hard I will pull
in every direction.
If we cross, I'll find you a swing.

Strawberry backdrop.

Just back and forth, nowhere fast.
Through the jitter,
cappacino bubbling down your neck.

They charge more for the burning heart.
The more out of yourself you are.
No control to steer the rigid touch.
The darted thoughts. Already forgotten.

When did I become a coffee drinker.
You inspire this
stillness in me.
Colorblind, we walked ahead.
Yawning with the traffic, why aren't we traveling
in spaceships yet.

Two minutes left,
music is the sound of the wobbling tracks.
This is where I need to stay focused.
This train will leave me in your dust.

08/01/2005

Posted on 08/01/2005
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