Thanksgiving was terrible, but
awesome because you were there
wincing at the awful collard greens
that never fail to show up
and your face screwed up
like a bad Saturday morning cartoon
to the taste and
all the spite in the world
could not stop me
from blowing red wine through my teeth
across the heap of turkey on my plate
scowling at the stuffing,
wishing it could be as soft.
original works of parts
Millen Boulevard
Even though the street lights
are too weak to illuminate
the places where the road has fallen in on itself,
I can see the bends in black and white
as I bite down again on a half eaten toothpick
and tongue the winter chap
starting to bleed where road speed and
wind speed conspired to flay.
I rest my arms on the headset, crossed,
while greased horn bells and timpanis play
noir diner small talk behind my nose and eyes and
David Lynch whispers sweet nothings
to the tune.
Some day you'll find the one
who doesn't care where you've been and
where you're going
with the same abandon you've put into forgetting.
I close my eyes and
let the silver bones slip and
as the brakes go and my feet clip
I blow a kiss to the stars above and see
how long it takes to cream
before the road turns
to river water again.
are too weak to illuminate
the places where the road has fallen in on itself,
I can see the bends in black and white
as I bite down again on a half eaten toothpick
and tongue the winter chap
starting to bleed where road speed and
wind speed conspired to flay.
I rest my arms on the headset, crossed,
while greased horn bells and timpanis play
noir diner small talk behind my nose and eyes and
David Lynch whispers sweet nothings
to the tune.
Some day you'll find the one
who doesn't care where you've been and
where you're going
with the same abandon you've put into forgetting.
I close my eyes and
let the silver bones slip and
as the brakes go and my feet clip
I blow a kiss to the stars above and see
how long it takes to cream
before the road turns
to river water again.
Highway Men
We had a time of it,
sitting on the edge of the bed.
Thinking about the river and
the women there
who think "hey sweetie"
is not a conversation starter.
The water still chops
this late into the dead of fall.
Matching eyes, my browns to his orange,
wondering where the edges
wear rough in this one horse town and
we blend in like stripes on a horse,
we yawn and exchange the wharf
for the bed
because some of us have work
in the morning,
but we had a time of it
while we sat and snacked
on the big peach ball of the sun
doing it's best not to sweat in the water
and the weather too smooth too late,
like fresh pudding skin when you're already prepared
for night caps and long sleeps,
and we agreed
not to rely on another soul,
spitting into the waves,
because all a highway man needs
is a cat with at least as much scratch
to watch his back.
sitting on the edge of the bed.
Thinking about the river and
the women there
who think "hey sweetie"
is not a conversation starter.
The water still chops
this late into the dead of fall.
Matching eyes, my browns to his orange,
wondering where the edges
wear rough in this one horse town and
we blend in like stripes on a horse,
we yawn and exchange the wharf
for the bed
because some of us have work
in the morning,
but we had a time of it
while we sat and snacked
on the big peach ball of the sun
doing it's best not to sweat in the water
and the weather too smooth too late,
like fresh pudding skin when you're already prepared
for night caps and long sleeps,
and we agreed
not to rely on another soul,
spitting into the waves,
because all a highway man needs
is a cat with at least as much scratch
to watch his back.
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