4-23-99

His eyes were sinking down.
His smile fading back like a boomerang frown,
and I over my cup of coffee and cigarettes prefer to lie.
Prefer to think of it as nothing.
It's been nothing.
My feeling cannot change. and I don't feel awful.
I'll just go smoke another cigarette.
He looks into my eyes and he want so feel
He wants to experience something unique, and wondrous with me.
But we both know it can never happen.
We've felt this way for too long, and the hunt is better than the kill.
So I'll just smoke another cigarette.
He reaches out and grabs my hand. The king of swift moves.
Maybe, but it's to fast to see who is really reaching,
and his face becomes blurred.
The only clear feature are the ones I imagined.
So I'll just smoke another cigarette.
He plays me a song and I think,
this is the one.
But the song was for himself.
And he may still think of me when he plays it,
but it was his hands searching for a clear tune through life.
And we can dance,
but the air clears before we're even done pretending.
Ill smoke another cigarette.
He is somewhere,
and he looks into me.
Sometimes he touches the ground like a dream.
He loves the sunrise,
and the wind.
He is poetry and musk.
But, like I said he's somewhere.
Oh well, we'll smoke cigarettes.