Sweeping across memory lips and turning lanes you dart off into a sea of rampant yet numbered excuses. Fill this hole and make me sever in seizure thinking free-thought malevolence. Marry the dust that scrapes off in morning for this is the only chance you'll have.

And then what?

I've waited for trains to drop out of the sky,
and I've waited for people to figure out I could use some help
in spite of the fact that we're clearly speaking in different tongues.

One time I watched a friend of mine stand at the alter
and wait for someone to tell the woman of his dreams
that he'd like to marry her at her earliest convenience.

I'm not as patient as I used to be, brother.
You're gonna have to do better than that,
or at least throw in a car where three of the four wheels
are guaranteed to last the rest of the month.

Since you're such a salesman and all.
I'd like something a little on the tangible side.

Well what I meant to say was accidental.
Speaking softly is in the past,
where those whispered lashes and butterfly snow exchanges
got us nothing more than shaking hands in our pockets and
cream filled bvd's.

I'd second the notion that help is high in demand
and while we say it differently we're really just fucking the same face
with ruptured douchbaggery that falls on deaf (wait no) pathetic ears.

While the altar bit was true we can't escape what's being
documented by the scribe of life and I'm pretty sure she's changed all her locks by now.

Those sound like fighting words, brother,
and you better believe I know how to make a brick wall
get that money to me by Friday night.

Maybe you woke up seventy-five years old
and in complete denial over the night you stole
an ambulance and tried to do a little good.

The cops never came to save that poor girl.
You’ll never know what the father did
when you had to leave and kick the music up
to a volume higher than the sound of the clouds
sinking like nickels in a well.

I suppose it also doesn’t help
that our cocktail hour tends to start
at around five in the morning and end
just moments after eternity has settled in for the long haul.

12/29/2010

Author's Note: Written alongside RKO's highest-paid actor from 1935 to 1942. It's never a dull or uninspired moment with this crazy kid at the wheel. I'm honored that he's one of those writers who continues to bring out the best in me.

Posted on 12/29/2010
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