About a long-lost lover. |
why we were so wrong, were we do we go that way since the game of true undying love is so real the radio not on the mirror dark and face not so pretty as before Corona Del Mar the exotic trees a wrong turn backup leave me and so wrong i come through an aisle of idle people with cameras, cases for traveling salesmen everywhere a candy bar i didn't eat on the plane so sad and so wrong were we hiding underneath a pile of papers unopened manuscript a life we made for our make-believe lovers to live with returning to where we are supposed to be look at me wrong for the way i enjoy "how" the clock looks like too many times i said is this the time we. i feel a string of numbered lines that add so many odd to even you are another numbered combination of them, the dog who chased the cat away and one passenger on the plane said "i have a dog and three cats" and they are okay they are just okay to feed them and leave them out tney start to bark or whine and it gets sticky and you take them with you everywhere you go have to feed them and leave them out it gets sticky when you leave them go without getting them groomed somehow that is just how silly it gets you spit at being a burden get tired too often just lay around and sulk you, young lover, said "I enjoy 'how', but now it's like "i don't want to play anymore, Samie" or you don't you never you have ascertained winning prizes that Whitman couldn't win even if he tried to by changing his name and wanting like hell to be alive again the knapsack i left in New Your is gone and the poetic vagabond died years ago. She is the ghost of Hermann Hesse and a boy in Perth Amboy, NJ who loved the Amboy Dukes and Steppenwolf for what it was i left you in the middle of the room remembering you i would rather walk alone now get back to being free see the horizon with the memory of you staring, a prized dog will you please suggest the kind of lie you like to eat sometime this "train" or something that rides you out to the ocean or the kind that sends you to Cleveland in the Post, maybe hoping to meet an important friend at 8:45 AM in the dewy morning and soon as you step off the plane act excited and say, "I can't wait to see you, old friend" the whole time the "train" is running a black cloud of white dust above, i said "see you . . . "I'll be leaving tomorrow" look at how many old dogs don't die they just roll over who will buy me lovely flowers how exciting it could be how pretty if I knew you'd have been a good kid and forgive i'll miss you, ole' boy |