Tuesday, September 26, 2006

Minus The Exploding Egg That Burned My Lip For A Week

I'd have you if you'd let me walk on the sandy
field of your soft lap. I mean I like you
when you're mean to me in the still grass
by the little cottage we named "The Little Cottage."
I must look lost if you're asking me if
I'm lost. A dazed feeling overwhelms me when I look at you.
"Don't shun the world, shed it." Alone, a lot,
a bicycle makes a good companion over
a bridge or in a state of panic: I think of you
in the green room where we gathered
to remember what we left behind. Remember:
what lies ahead is just as exciting and fucked
as what came before.


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