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Never had a bad intention
I just always made some bad decisions
that usually got way out of hand
and discredited my good intent
though looking a bit harder now
I guess I was just angry and confused
and figuring it out the best I knew how
given time, place, and circumstance
I mean I was just 16 then 19 — 23 then 25
now 31 doesn’t feel so old, in fact
I feel much younger than my former self
ready to dive back into that season of change.
Kyle’s
Camel
cigarette
smoke
lingers in the air
creeping in my window
wishing me to dare
take another drag
see what you’ve been missing
though if I did decide
to have another kissing
I’d like to think
it would be mid winter
jangling down the streets
of New York City banter
admiring sleepy windows
with a stranger I barely know
after leaving the Wreck Room
now long since closed
and wondering if she feels
the same way I do
taking a long hot drag
while
trying to seem cool
knowing nothing about her
yet desperately wanting to
and they would taste like Brooklyn
they would be Pall Mall Menthol
crisp and clear and clean
like ice on the verge of thaw
we’d be cracking up.
My eyes burn
with exhaustion
scanning the airport
for any sign of life
though heads down turned
there is none
just a few lone stragglers
who look around
the same as I
unwilling to accept the courtesy
of pleasant conversation
we remain
strangers
and
strangers to ourselves.
My friend is back
that lone bird
this morning
he’s brought a friend
and wouldn’t you know
here I am
barely awake
and jealous of him
though not to spoil their party
I ear my headphones
stretch and bend
It’s got to be 60 degrees
and while I run
I think of them
happy among the trees.
I can say I failed
Or
I can say it worked out
just as it was supposed to
And
her and I can move forward
knowing our paths weren’t meant to cross
Again
the past is all we had in common
and well, the past must be laid to rest.
Sleep well my friend
until then
I wish I hadn’t been so mean
But
I wish you only the best,
even though I’m sure that’s hard to believe.
constantly tinkering
toying in turn
churning and yearning
and combing inward
what does it mean
I haven’t the urge
just sort of liked
this rhythm of words
A large portion of
poetry is spam.
But I don’t eat that stuff,
at least not until I get to see Hawaii
then who knows?
I hear, fried with an egg, it’s good.
When in Rome, you know;
when in Rome.
