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I haven't cried about it until now - listening to van Morrison's "rave on John Donne" avoiding a lost possibility - drinking a beer.
And for eleven months you have been my grocery store
hometown grocery in china town off of Alice street
and I can dance tonight
"is it real what you sang about in your song.... is it real what you sang about in your song"
if that line doesn't make you weep.
"beneath these silly ruins tonight. tonight. let it all begin tonight."
Sometimes I flip gold coins to see how I feel.
Heads you go.
Bird you stay.
and the flow of your life - how you can feel the panic and the depression in the edges of your pool but for some god blessed reason you can't touch them.
and you don't fall on the floor in wonder, but you sometimes wish there was a human where you wouldn't be your stiff self to all the time....
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