fairness
against a door jamb
created sorrow and asked
praise

we can imagine
twelve pained steps

from the fridge to the stairs

you've never heard this song before
have you?

in all fairness
we can imagine

It's a pitiful substitute, a beer and D'angelo singing a cover of Smokey. Serving me the oldest line known,
music is made for love
It really is and I imagine music driving us, two forces with reckless steering.
I should have kissed you. . .
I've switched to something more somber
and for good reason,
it's a pitiful substitute, this song and these memories.

stretched thin as it is
his head heavy on my shoulder
and we sit in the dark.

Comma splicing is seen as a beacon
You know there are greater spotlights in the
universe.

I got nothing to worry about, she says to herself
In the bathroom, she shimmies to Diana Ross and the Supremes,
raises her hand to the mirror and protests a man sullying the name
of love.
Her man sits in the next room half listening to her murmur to the
acoustics of the bathroom, half reading his day's work.
She's got nothing to worry about, so she calls out,
"Hey babe?"
Yes?
"I love you!"
She imagines him nodding with a smile.
I love you too.
okay, nothing to worry about.

I Want to Write a Poem

Everyone knows that they want to write a poem
they feel it in the space between their eyes and hairline
They have lights to guide them in the right place,
towards the sign that says: "Emotions for sale!"
They write like sex shy boys fuck, in the dark against
their will and they finish very fast.
There are usually no takers.

When I thought we couldn't surprise each other,
it's three weeks into the fray and i barely know you.
That's not awful, no, far from it.
I don't need you knowing me just yet either.
We're allowed to love one another with secrecy and
a special kind of deceit.
I'm allowed to come to you wanting your affections
and not tell you why.
You see? Not all is said aloud.

Tonight, I plan to dream

Tonight, I plan to dream about walking though walls and
peering in on a secret meeting of the Masons.
I need to know what's going on there.
I'm going to get caught and there will be
a shoot out, a one sided shoot out
because the Masons still use Crusading Weaponry.
So I somersault through the air with two uzis,
steal back the Cup-o-Christ, and speed away on
jet powered rollerblades. In my dream
I will not be afraid of rollerblades.

I Can't Change

I would never eat black-eyed peas and cornbread if I could help it.
I don't need to get back to any proposed roots, I am not a plant
Have you ever been sick to death of pushed legumes and heritage?