My buttons are drying out
they mistake the point
the dreams they avoid are beautiful
one day they may come crying
broken down and dirty
perhaps you'll take their hand
and lead them away
to where my buttons are drying out

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the man with the golf hat trashed the pregnant woman. I saw it all and wound up on a floor in Portland. Somebody grabbed the money and made a dash for the door. Seconds passed and no one moved. I lost my train of thought and it turned on me. Once we'd all gathered in the back our homes became unimportant, our families indifferent. Now is the time for better games. The hack with the green belt gave me a ride to the station. We lived in the light and died in the lightning.

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fat kids with broken turtlenecks and prostitute bicycles ---- the king crooner --- malcolm little and mr. drumkit --- they're all here. Make a note. Yes. They smoke cigars in secret and their collective name is simple. We can't remember how long they've been here but somehow we know. At dawn they pile into the Octagon's van and break all the rules of the road. Later on they're joined by the Fox who could and does resemble Barry Gibb. He can't sing but he certainly speaks a good game. Yes. Well, that's all that matters anyway. "What's the use?" Linda says. "Oh, I'll never know," I say.

p.s. Thank you Friends. You bring me great comfort and I'll never forget that. May I take this dance?

--------------------------

In all honestly, I never wrote you. I suspect a case of plagiarism or maybe the handwriting thief paid a visit. In any case, I'd never mention my pet peeves or general virtuosity, that's for sure. I will say that it is good to hear from you and we can leave it at that. Though....forgive me but, you seem a little tender, misspoken, am I mistaken? How did it work out with your professor (I never liked him)?

The years have treated me poorly. I'm not what i once was. My yard is overgrown and the closet I'd inhabited was stolen from me. Oh well, some days you just wake up in a new place.

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"I just want to go to a quiet place and curl up with the onions"
- unknown, feb. 2010

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in a perfect light the wind changed direction. it swept us up. we came to the edge of a field. Deep, rolling hills surrounded us. Our eyes searched those hills, but to no avail. I heard my mother calling faintly. Just an echo of an echo really, darting in the wind. The horizon seemed close and we could appreciate that. For, in all it's grandeur, it still fit in the palm of our hands, still seemed to cower, as if fearing some infinite fate, ever approaching, never arriving. I walked slowly, deliberately. A friend seemed close at hand.....close at hand.....close at hand....close at hand.....close at hand.....close at hand......close at hand.....close at hand....close at hand.........

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The Ancients or "A Fresh Start"
Look over there at the ancients and their high-heeled socks. They're looking for Miss Right but they're in the wrong place. In fact, they've got it all wrong. They've been going at it for weeks, and look!....Now they're even building a dormitory...sharpening their shovels.....their senses. "C'mon now pals, get your compasses fixed. You can't find anything over in those rocks!"
Years go by.
Nothing changes.
Once, they knocked on the door of the local bakery. Someone said they needed milk to feed their young (I never saw any young over there). Another said they were heading out of town and needed some wheels. They'd discovered evidence disproving their theory and would be on their way. Then, a few days later I ran into one at lunch and he said the lightning this year would be stingier than ever. Stingy lightning?
But it was true. Lightning hit my house that year. Everything went black. I thought it was all over (life, that is). But as it turns out, I was the lucky one. I'd lost all my files!

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Much disagreement comes about when nobody cares. The walls bend in, spaces are more confined, outdoor becomes an insider. We are bound to please some one, but by that point, pleasure remains for no one. Now, the ocean continues it's nap and sand sprays more evenly than we can understand. The secret lies behind a frigid lock and key. Go for a walk, hand in hand, and some wounds may heal.

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Astrud Gilberto came to my window today. She asked me to sing but the moment had passed. "Ah, my bleary-eyed superhero, perhaps tomorrow." I handed her a road map and whisked her away. She took it slowly, tentatively...starting to back up...a little unsatisfied, and now beginning to waste away in the morning sun. I laughed heartily, almost inhumanely: "I compliment you for your sins! You do look good with your frozen lipstick and toothpick sneakers. Don't ever change!"

Tomorrow may be different but I suppose the moment will always pass.