there is a lesson

hidden inside of the lesson

there are elves and fairies

kept in cages like canaries

there is a secret principle

stuck in the vents at the remedial school

places get named after people

and people get named after places

honey please don’t let me let you

the last thing i wanna do’s depress you

i'm at the bar where i first met you

i was looking for a chemical rescue

now the windows are wide open

but the doors are closed

it's time for you to get a clue

you're the one i adored the most

smoking on a menthol vacation

you never cared for my fixations

the bouncer's eyes say devastation

this tourist town's staring down damnation

honey please don’t let me let you

i really don't mean to distress you

a phone call's no time to attest to

i only care about our bedroom

Cities used to burn down every ten years because everything was covered in whale oil

and all that grease probably stank to high hell.

Carcasses and old growth stumps

Tar and pine sap crackle in the inferno.

Massacre and disaster and all other vessels tragedy climbs into sag aluminum warehouse shelves with dread-weight and the planet is heavier than it used to be. 

“Look at the little star shapes that the light and water make.”

“Look at the way the silt sparkles from the mica. I used to scratch around in the clay with other little kids looking for big chunks of it. It’s flaky like filo pastry.”

“Look at this.”

Plunk.

“Look at that bird landing on the water.”

“Cormorant.”

“How about this one.”

Plunk.

“No good.”

Plunk.

“Me neither.”

Plunk. Plunkplunk.

“We should plot South before the cold. My bones can’t take it. I think my bones have endured enough. I don’t want to abuse them after all the good they’ve done me.”

“They do a nice job, don’t they.”

“I’d say so. Yours too, it should be noted.”

Plunk plunk plunk.

“That one looked good.”

“I think it’s in the elbow.”

Plunk.

Plunk plunk. 

“I want you to know that I care about your bones, too. I don’t want to seem selfish when it comes to bones. And it occurs to me that I’ve never asked how your bones like the warm weather. And if they hate the warm weather then we can work something out. I don’t want you to just go along with what my bones want at the expense of your own bones.”

Plunk plunk.

Plunk.

Plunk plunk plunk. 

Plunk plunk plunk plunk plunk plunk plunk

plunk plunk plunk.

They watched the rings turn back into flat water, and the sun kissed their shoulders very very gently.

i’ve always been a sucker for a good crescendo

and bruising my skull on a subtle expression

when the sun sets we can start to reflect

on all the old wrong words hanging over our heads

even with miracle modern technologies

i know i'll always feel lost instead of free

how many scowls does it take for a home

to be absorbed by the pleasure pond outside

blue blue jeans still go white in the sun

and all my little words dry out with the mud

sunlight pieces and assorted tiny pains

if you show me a thread

i won’t be able to stop myself

needles and thumbtacks

tweezers and wrong ways

we march toward a world

with superflat terrain

it aches to see the split road ahead

can barely brush you with my

fingertips, and generous people

tend to gather round each other

your dust stings my cheek and

i find myself wishing i was your

passenger again, wishing we

were in the same car again

distance comes gently like the

smooth curve of the highway

that steals you away from me