Poems September 2017

I'm too alive to sleep tonight, red lady
Been alternating between beer and peaches
Ghost stories and The JavaScript Bible
The wind has come home to roost in my belfry and there are puppies in my stomach

If you float outside my window tonight, like you did several poems ago
I'll jump out and join you
Won't even brush my teeth
And you'll bring your map?
Of the precise location where I finally do what's right, right there on destiny's doorstep.

Birds live and birds die
and I don't know the difference
Call me, or hang up
both speak volumes
I'm good
I'm incredibly evil
I'll do what I can
I'll do nothing
The sun comes up tomorrow
it never comes up again
Spelling doesn't count
just make up your own words

Lorre is a bird
a parakeet with a deformed beak
I might have to put him down tomorrow
Will he haunt me?
Flying around the murderer's dreams?
Or will I bury him out back and then
come in and have toast?

I don't know anything anymore
I've never met anyone
I'm alone
I'm surrounded
Poor Lorre
You've never existed
I'll remember you forever
The days are neither good nor bad but they roll on by
They stay perfectly still
Lorre stops breathing or flies away
I understand neither
Judge neither

You, in the red dress
Dancing past the men
Turning them back into boys
The flower in your hair comes with its own bees

Blink your big eyes
Jiggle your jiggleless frame
And drink a toast:
At midnight we can all walk home