Somewhere in the great divide.
That guitar is playing.
Between dusk and dawn.
Cold autumn air on my fuzzy toes,
cold tea nestled carelessly between two authritic points.
Somewhere in the great divide.
That place where I left my childhood.
That place where I realized I loved you.
That place where it all fell apart.
Like ash?
Like a house of cards?
Like exploding bumble bees?
That sunset tragedy outside our front door.
That melancholy perfection at the twilit edge of the universe.
All good things must come to an end...
Or so they say.
I say-
That's not life.
This is the sideswipe.
This is the diversion.
Life is...
Having your cake and licking it too.
Life is reaching that level of content perfection.
I reach out my hand, to pull it all out of the muck.
But it's all so damned thick, inky, foul.
What about class?
What about establishment?
Riches? Mirth? Revelry?
Wild sex? Friends, family, family, FAMILY!
What about us?
Will you walk barefoot with me in the shards of my youth?
Cross the burning ember bridge to my happy landfill.
Hand in hand.
To a place where my smile is eternal.
A place where I can listen to that distant guitar, and crickets, and fireflies fucking, on borrowed time, on stolen sandwiches.
Can you
get off work, take off those stanky shoes,
hold me close, and kindly reject my offer of hot monkey sex- in favor of falling asleep to a great movie,
and two satisfied smiles?
Can you handle happiness?
Can you handle running away with me-
the first chance we get.
