Ferry Loads (day 1515)

I was caught between a Ford F150 and an overloaded Subaru station wagon,
A family of 6 had stuffed her so tight their hands were all hanging out the windows,
Each with a cigarette loosely dangling there. 
I had packed modestly, as usual. 
My father had taught me years ago the beauty of a single pair of undies. 
My copilot was fanning herself with a rolled up magazine the terminal operator had casually offered her,
Nobody could think straight with such heat. 
The huge doberman hanging out in the back of the Ford had it’s tongue rolled out so far it seemed rather comedic to us, 
Poor dog was probably suffering back there. 
Waiting there was a bustle of excitement to and fro,
Like watching an ant hive;
Some things we just never understand,
Seemingly busyness of humans and ants for no particular reason identifiable. 
We waited thirty five minutes there and watched,
Every single one of us in that oversized parking lot,
As the ferry slowly pulled into its parking spot and unloaded a few hundred passengers,
Eagerly anticipating our own turn to single file our way into a large metal box, freshly whitewashed.

Counterpose (day 1468)

I’m scared to understand,
Letting ideas ride deep
Into sleepless nights
And I wonder what ifs.
I don’t let wizards
Paint my low brow dark,
I keep satin stains
Along smirk marks of my face.
I crawl into your yellow marks,
Finishing a day old cigarette
That tastes sour
And makes me upset again.
Counterpose my excellence
Awkwardly adjacent
To a sprinkling good luck,
Nickel and dime water fountain.
I’m going back underground.

The Woman I Love (day 1209)

How do you tell the woman you love
That the woman you love is the end of it all.
Let light fall inside until I unwind again.
To be saved from depths
Is the clock I sew with my head down low.

Take wind in my soul.
Take wine like my mind –
Sweeping words of my soul.
It’s the end of my song
And I’m madly in love.

It’s time to say goodbye?
Last pages written and I’ve pushed
Words like a two o’clock cigarette.
How do you tell the woman you love
That the fire is burning bright and my mind.

Shifting Conscience (day 618)

Aches off the coast of your dying heart
Wallow in darkening corners of my eyes
My shifting conscience begs of you forgiveness
Sourly settling into this big-ol-comfy couch

Do not wallow in misery that follows choices
Gaining entrance into back rooms of smokey bars
Cold glasses and top shelf stuff
Free lap dances all night long

Revel in freedom’s advances
Hit the high notes like a 9 year old choir boy
Smoke the last cigarette until the last duck call doesn’t work
And then we shall reign victorious

For deep within the advances of your grieving heart
Rests a moth, fluttering it’s wings
Preparing for the coming months ahead
Where you too shall learn to fly like a butterfly