A light bulb blows out
the phone doesn't ring
I've got my suspicions
And you had your fists
I'm feeling creepy
I'm feeling blessed
I want to kiss you
Regardless the risk
Darkness stretches
Across your cheek
An incomplete sentence
Or something obsolete
Let me begin again
A narrative
In first person
With the last chapter
Missing in action
Where did our happy ending go?
Where did our once upon a time lead?
To afterhours bars
And new spots to cop
Empty parks
And public bathrooms
Times Square
Astor Place
Or those exotic stops
The bodega
At Third & C
It's the same old scene
Cigarettes and scary dreams
Midnight sidewalks
And eyes of green
I hear you whisper
When I scream
I feel you breathing
Next to me
A suitcase of memory
Get this picture down
White underwear
An empty glass
A door without a keyhole
I'm half a word away
And I'm not sorry
A shift in weight
That took a thousand years
To properly name
Contra pasto
Seen in Rome
On a Vespa
Or in New York
On a skateboard
But no one's got
A good idea
To paint on a ceiling
Anymore
Friday, October 15, 2010
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