Wednesday, March 29, 2017

Not the Girl in the Song

I will never be the girl
about whom someone
writes a song because 
nothing rhymes with me
and though all the words
live in me
I've not yet learned
how to live among them
And the heart
it has no rhythm
just beats a
mad, staccato marathon
in my chest
then stops for days
until it feels safe enough
to beat again

2/27/2017

Someone

Someone hunts the hunter
in the coldest, darkest night
Someone hides their monsters
where the sunlight never shines
Someone watched the angels
and eventually they fell
Someone's lust is poison
but she's looking forward to hell
Someone's got the fever
for a life she's never led
Someone long for stories
where the characters aren't dead
Someone wants to dream of something
anything will do
This girl she wants to dream of something
anything but you

3/21/2017

To One Who's Never Met the Sun

Do you see more clearly
when the sun goes down
when every light around you dims
and you can finally find your way
because your eyes 
are so accustomed
to the darkness
that's inside you?
Where will you go
when confronted
by the light
How will you find your way
in the sunshine
when you've never met
the sun?
Will you close you eyes
and stumble back into
the dark corners
of the comfort zone
that has become your home?
Or will you open your eyes
and let all
of your dark places
burn up in the light?

3/20/2017

Dreams on St. Peter Street

I can hear the calliope
on the Steamboat Natchez
playing faintly on the river
down Saint Peter Street
I think it's playing
La Vie En Rose
but it's hard to tell
because I'm not sure
if it's real and I'm awake
or if all of this is just a dream
I want to go outside
and listen for the answer
for all the answers
but I'm not really sure
I want to know
because the dream
is just so sweet

2/26/2017

Thursday, January 12, 2017

A Slice and a Dream


I sometimes stop at this cheesy Italian fast food joint around the corner from my subway stop in Manhattan because I can eat a meatball and take a piss just before I hop on the train.

The joint is always filled with tourists who haven't discovered the treasure of cheap pizza from places that sell it for $2.50 for two slices and a can of soda. You can't go wrong with a dollar slice, but they don't know that.

Often the joint is filled with high school choruses on class trips, and suddenly I'm back in tenth grade on a trip to see "La Cage Aux Folles" in a city that I didn't understand but always knew I wanted to be.

And I can feel how untouchable everything seems, even though by now I have touched it all.

And I can feel how overwhelming everything seems, because sometimes I still feel overwhelmed.

And I remember what dreaming feels like, because dreaming was all a poor kid from Pennsylvania could do when I was their age.

And then I remember what reaching a dream feels like because here I am in Midtown Manhattan and I'm on my way home from work after some cheap eats in a place where some people are just beginning to dream.

And on my way home I watch the city lights flicker in the distance from the subway window and wonder how many of those are the lights of dreams still being born and, even more, how many of them are mine.