Hey, you wanna sleepover?
*laughs* and we play!
he must have been there
up the stairs and up the stairs
and we would communicate
and reiterate
about the world and world affairs
Hey, he kind of looks like...
*laughs* and we smile!
Wanna sip? Here.
*sips* and we continua
He rips apart the papers and tosses them up
up in the air, unwilling to share
up and up and up the stairs
he's gone now, but who cares?
...right?
Sew your mouth shut if you aren't going
to use it, otherwise let's go to K-mart
and kick rubber balls high above the clouds
and push racks of clothes into walls
and settle down in sunny hotel halls
settle down at seven o' clock in the morning
That's how you wear your hair now...
intensely but most delicately combed backward
infinitely backward
And that's how you hold your head now...
plagued by indifference, your suddenly gaunt features
are sullenly sinking, actually wrinkling!
Excuse me, but it really does hurt me
When you say
"Alright"
and "Okay"
with that tone of
"Alright"
and "Okay"
You were sleeping and I shoulda let sleepin' dogs lie
I shot a Nerf gun in your eye
You flinched awake
I shot a Nerf gun into your face
and the rubber darts zipped and bounced,
off your cheeks and off your forehead and your skull
boink bonk whizz-bonk boink
The revolver spun and churned them bullets out
click click click.....click.
I do remember...we did sit in the café together often...
making stories of Thomas and Reginald,
and the man who brought his own tea cups!
Reggie and Tom! You remember...
We would talk, and you would often listen, I believe
about Mitt Romney and why terrorism happens.
Grinding poppy seeds between our incisors
sipping lemon iced teas and cold iced coffees
whilst being our own and each other's closest advisors...
It was right then and there, precisely then and there,
exactly when and where I'd hate to fall in with it,
and irrevocably fall into awe of it all.
My lagging words and endless rambling paragraphs
cut you off and drove you away, far away into yourself
and out there into the endless summers
It was just last Summer
"I don't want Amy...to be Yoko."
Then, there was the talk in your kitchen where I cried a bit
Then the baking of cookies and gingerbread men (or was that before?)
By and by, and at certain lengths,
It came to be that I seldom spoke,
and then hardly spoke at all.
