Mixing Metaphors

Well we could have stood there all night talking until the cows turned blue
She was watching like I was a hawk, It was what we owed, it was our due.
She whispered that I must be a wolf in cheap clothing because her heart
was racing her brain to a tied finish . She said I want me to need you.
You could have knocked me over with a fender. I will get you by hook
or ladder, It wouldn't really matter, I could read this moment like the back
of a book. It was almost all it took, just a nod, a kiss, and another long but
quick look.
Love is as easy as falling off a piece of cake. She just stood there and shot
the wind out of my saddle, She blew me a hug as she turned back to go.
It was so real even if it was just for show.
It's like this, I want to get my curveball love straight to her heart.
I want to step up to the plate by laying all my cards on her table
If I am able, I will audition my desire for the part, if I am able.
It's like wanting a microwave when all I have is satellite or cable.



A secret nod to Mister Jim Carlton for a little big distraction on writing this whimsy.

Reading between the Lines

I find the secrets in the subtext as my fingers trace the keys
the hidden gems buried deep below the ripples of the seas.
all the words I wanted to say, all the things I wanted that way,
all the feelings that I have felt, all the cards I have been dealt.

I find her whispers between the lines she should have said to me
the unsaid, unexpressed disasters that were never meant to be.
all the times, I could have admitted that love was enough
all the places we should have gone, life was just too tough.

The pages crumple, then twist, then smoke and turn to ash
the forgotten connotations, every action racing into this tragic crash.
all the books that could save us, all the advice that I could take
all the fears that made us ignore the one thing we could make

Why couldn't we have stopped before it was too late?
why did we forget the love, remembering only the hate?
why wasn't it our time? wasn't it simply sublime?
this is the misfortune of reading too fast, iconic, a crime.
this is why we can't have nice things, this is all just a cliche
what does it matter if you get the context anyway?

On Coffee and Toast

Thursday morning, a cup of Dunkin Donuts Chocolate Glazed Coffee
with Peppermint Patty creamer and whole wheat toast with salted butter
and Strawberry preserves, the butter just beginning to melt. These are
the moments that I cherish the most. I am eclectic and eccentric as
I pause to sip, collect some thoughts, the moment is as static and staid
as time slides out of view, micro electric.
The sun plays shadows into the screened porch, the song fades away
as the music from iTunes throbs out into the vacancy left by the silence of
what I am about to write. The vestiges of all I am and have dreamt slip
sliding away into the memories of last night. I look for words, the chirps
of birds, the barking of my two dogs chasing the elusive squirrel up into
the trees that are all about surrounding the house, the sentence that
complicates my life so resoundingly.
Perhaps, I digress; Perhaps, I should just confess that I am in love with
the words that spill out onto the screen. Perhaps, I should just admit that
is just the effects of caffeine. Perhaps, I should walk away into my
imagination, leave this world so deceptively peaceful and quiet.
Perhaps I should have another cup of solace, perhaps I should
offer my thanks to this place, my creation, my palace.
Can I finish this thought, requestion everything I have written?
Should I play with the dogs or just get another kitten?
The toast was tasty and sweet, another cup of coffee makes this ponderance
complete.