Let's pick up where we
          left off
I said globe and you
          picked a boy's journey
I said
          I'd follow you to the ends of
                    the earth
          you said          dangerous proposition
Air crisp hits this
          wine-tainted mind
          tipped slowly over
                    a longer day
I am saving gas by not
          driving my car
                    sometimes
          drinking as an excuse
Your body
voices in the room upstairs

She offers fresh bread
          and sautéed
                    mushrooms because
food is life and if there is
nothing to say                    well then
So anxious to be out of
          my clothes          as
house ghosts witness my
          strip tease
sometimes it's cats
          catch me off guard
I'm working again
making a go

You said maybe this isn't
          what you are supposed
          to be doing
I said                    I am built for speed
You ask
          How can I make it          all
          up to you          I want
                    to take you somewhere
Tell me everything that is
          in your heart
starting with last night

I iced my swollen face
          this morning so I could
          exist outside          but
spent most of the day swallowing
my words          I couldn't do anything
until I heard your voice 
knew that we could go on          see
a future didn't exist until I
knew we could understand
          each other again if
only on 2 sides of
          a phone line

You say
          I woke up
          I felt bad
And sound it

Nothing of this matters
when I am this tired
          no more wine
                    bartender
I need to be untied
          it jumps inside
this person
          trying to listen
ears cracked          heaven
          gestures
          Anyone home?

Let's not fight
          subliminal
hand painted             desire
hopscotch           bourbon          seminary
          tasteless          subtle
barbaric          I am
running out of places to go.
 

noon

I had forgotten
in the lunch rush
more than average
          the music of lit rain
          clap of cloud
                    salmon on my plate
Stomach said:
          This is a better served
                    memory