Dear Rita

Dear Rita, this is the
Second and last attempt
At backing up my egomania
Though you are euphoria
We’re both too smart to think I’d stop
There at euphoria
I don’t know when enough’s enough

You can bet on me like betting on horses
Not like you can bet my father took opiates 
Early this morning I got one gullible mother
Who says keep out the cabinet but you know I’m stubborn

That’s when I called on god
He came to me in a ziplock

Dear Rita, this is the
Second and last attempt
At backing up my egomania
Though you are euphoria
We’re both too smart to think I’d stop
There at euphoria
I don’t know when enough’s enough

Are you bored yet are you mad I’m not sorry
I stand accused in the eyes of an impartial jury
Rita that’d be you the letter you wrote was 
Downgrading sarcastic and true

Why would I call on god
When I can have him for one tenth the cost

Dear Rita, this is the
Second and last attempt
At backing up my egomania
Though you are euphoria
We’re both too smart to think I’d stop
There at euphoria
I don’t know when enough’s enough

I walk the line of sanity
Psychosis lives under my bed
I’m a good liar
If you don’t believe me well that proves
That Rita, this is the
Second and last attempt
At backing up egomania
Though you are euphoria
We’re both too smart to know
I’d stop

Ephemeral Shannon

I call a friend and say I’d like to know
What Shannon is thinking today
I’d like to know if that coffee she makes 
Is enough to keep Shannon awake

I walk the park guessing what she would say
Of the blossoms destined to soon disappear
There once was a time I knew every other thought of Shannon‘s
Like flies buzzing 

In my ear and at the tip of my pen
Around the fruit of trees we’d 

Plant
Now too much has been left unsaid
It’s buried in concrete
I want cherry branches instead

I’ve had more conversations in my head
With Shannon than words aloud we have said
She is both the daemon adorning my crown 
And wasabi stuck to the roof of my mouth

So I call a friend and say I’d like to know
What Shannon is thinking today
I’d like to tell her that coffee she makes
Is more than enough to keep

Me awake and my hands on the keys
And pruning the trees we’d

Plant
Now too much has been left unsaid
It’s buried in concrete
I want cherry branches instead

There was a knock at the door
I thought that can’t be for me
I glued my face to the glass and 
My hands to the sill
And heard laughter off of the street
What does it mean to be loved
If I ever knew I dropped it
But I’m done with reluctance to pick it up off the ground

Sistine Blue

He said he is looking forward 
To September weather
I was looking forward to his
Hand in my hand in September 

Two sets of two keys on my key ring 
Turns out maybe is no

His mom told me I look like his
Widowed brother’s wife
But someone has yet to put a suit on
To look me in the eye and say I’m glad you’re mine

Two sets of two keys on my key ring 
Turns out I don’t know is no
One pair of Sistine Chapel blue eyes
My September won’t know

Turns out maybe is no
Turns out I don’t know is no
Turns out yes and I’ll try again
Doesn’t transmute no

Vintage Bendel

It was my last week in town
A cut and run to fertile ground
We made plans to meet at a hotel
I wore my yellow vintage Bendel

A case of you is bitter and sweet
Honey I can say I’m still on my feet
You gave me a journal and said when I get back
We will get together and read it then

I know it’s been less than formal
I never made it back but I kept a journal
And in its pages and in its lines
Part of you pours out of me from time to time

Now here I am where flowers grow
Where salty waves meet silky shore
And all I want is back in that hotel
Wearing my vintage Bendel

With no intent to fan an old flame
Honey I would take that evening to say
Where I once cast at you the blame
My disposition towards us has changed

I know it’s been less than formal
I never made it back but I kept a journal
And in its pages and in its lines
Part of you pours out of me from time to time

There is a law against that
But there’s no crime to commit
If life were long I would wait
But I’d like the chance to say that

And in its pages and in its lines
Part of you pours out of me from time to time

Damon

Little blonde boy
I’ve done everything for you
Where there was no threat
I ran and I hid

Damon looks into the mirror and sees a masochist
Tightens up his fists and walks away
He books a reservation for just him
At a tavern where they would sit

They represent what
Damon couldn’t let himself have

Damon thought he laid to rest that masochist
He’s depressed to find him breathing
Who can say why he throws away

The things he spends his life building

They represent what
Damon couldn’t let himself have

Little blonde boy
I’ve grown old alone with you
Where there is no threat
I flinch and I snap

Damon saves his paycheck for his real estate
Throws himself an allowance
He’s a slave to precision and
Takes pleasure in the pain it brings him

‘Cause he represents
The life he convinced himself to live

Little blonde boy
What else could I do
What else could we be If we did something new

Such Different Wants

What wants for nothing
And floats at the surface
Is a magnet for the current
And is pulled out to sea

What climbs a mountain
Searching for a trumpet
Finds stagnant air and
Dies unseen

I am who will love you
When your hair is white
Koi fish in the pond
Red, black, hello, goodbye

Who finds the center
Of a constellation
And holds that tension
Knows the wind

I am who will love you
When your hair is white
Koi fish in the pond
Red, black, hello, goodbye