drinks for eight

caught you shopping
at the new town mall
i went in short
but came out tall
we sang a song
and ate a bite
you offered me a date
but i wanted all through the night
with pizza for two;
drinks for eight
i thought it was early
but you said it was getting late
i just couldn't keep time
fell from the soft leather chair
found you in the bathroom
combing your tangled hair
saw the tattoo
asked you who
you said you couldn't remember
it's just what he drew
and outside those lines
the parlor colors bled
and i heard you exhale
but that's all you said
and in a rush
you put on a dress
where were you going?
i just had to guess
so down the steep stairs
and back to the bar
it seemed like a million miles
but really wasn't far
you stood standing
in front of the crowd
shaking your stuff
singing much too loud
the room was full
your dancing wild
and your eyes sparkled
like a little child
i caught your glimpse
put it away
thought of all the things
i didn't say.

are my feet too long?

all night long in my bedroom
thinking about the remainder of the day
but the sun is so low
it's no longer telling me which way
i should go
or how to know
do you love me or are my feet too long?
should i sing you my favorite or my lonely song
or simply part my hair?
well, i'm looking at the nearest chair
but you're no longer there!
is this anyway to keep the sandman at bay?
wondering if i should go or should i stay
looking for my other shoe
while i'm really missing you
and the way you open up with a belly laugh
when i'm walking out to take another cold bath
and in the hallway down the stairs
i'm still burdened with a hundred million cares
hearing the soft steps you once took to the front door,
leaving images of prints on my hardwood floor;
and the scent of your wild perfume,
it lingers
all night long in my bedroom
thinking about the remainder of the day
and the sun is so low
it's no longer telling me which way
i should go
or how to know
do you love me or are my feet too long?

when the doors are open

and when the doors are open
there's a child at play
looking for new worlds,
and new words to toy around with and say;
pushing the envelope;
throwing away the stamp;
running from a single spotlight,
lighting the lamp.
and by the rivers rushing down to the sea
there's music in the breeze,
her voice filling me with wonder,
and i'm on my knees,
ready to grow into one of the tallest trees,
flying like the little sparrow
into the blood red orange sunset
thinking i had all the best answers,
and yet
when i opened my hand it was empty:
reflections of a distant coast;
a mighty mountain trembling;
a silent shimmering of a passing ghost.

you looked at me

you're not the same
because now you look sad;
i remember how
you once looked glad.
we took our kites
to the top of a hill,
watching them fly
became our latest thrill.
you looked at me
and threw a kiss;
it became a moment
i couldn't resist.
we tumbled down,
rolled over the hill;
holding together
became our latest thrill.
your sparkling eyes,
the words said loud;
you might have quit
but you felt so proud!
you're not the same
because now you look sad.
i remember laughing
and how you got mad.
we opened a door;
i took the right,
you went left;
far from my sight
the sun rose;
it became noon
and i went now,
but you went soon.
on separate roads
beyond the town
i went up
and you went down.
you looked at me
and threw a kiss.
it became a moment
i couldn't resist.

Hiroshima melting

on the million dollar set,
a little dog wagged her tail;
she went looking for the grateful dead
before they went on sale.
and i'm on the road again
to Philadelphia, USA;
i wonder where the yellow went
when i hear the preacher say,
the "Dark Star is rising!"
his flock waiting in the church.
the Boston harbor is flooding!
a canary on her perch
singing 'Yesterday!'
bells ringing in the old town square:
it's Hiroshima melting!
radiation spikes the air,
and a thousand points of random light
but does anybody care?
i'm singing for another round,
a fancy question in my head
the seas are rising to midnight,
the sky a menacing red!
every molecule pays a price
the circuit overloads!
tripping down the center lane,
i'm taking all the back roads.

when our fingers touched

the giant Hibiscus
in my pants
and along the shoreline
in a primetime trance
i'm hearing the low ball,
listening to the blues,
following the high tide
to the lying man's shoes.
oh, there he goes again
turning an angry compost pile,
tanning his facial hair,
practicing his practiced smile.
i keep looking for a fortune
but settle for a kitchen sink;
it wasn't the trip others dream of
but it made me think,
sipping my very cold beer,
reading an interesting book;
the white trash was heading curbside
and i just had to look.
she came into my dreams;
i watched her fly;
it rained every day that summer
and we both knew why:
it isn't easy to start a fire
when the wood is wet.
i tried to save the sinking ship
but have no lasting regret:
in a mushroom cloud
i imagined things i'd rather forget.
there were birds eating seed
and a grey squirrel with a nut.
they talked to me in earnest
about living in a rut.
the doors closed and the windows shut:
i sat on a flat rock in a wild creek
with the sun in my eyes;
she laughed as our fingers touched:
it came as no surprise.

feeling lonesome

i'm gonna tell you what is happening
but what has been
is probably just another dumb story
of being high and living in sin
and i'm thinking of doing it
all over again
to your face or behind your back
or on the other side of the subway track
in a cute motel with manicured lawn
all night long partying until the dawn
in a beaten down shack in a beaten down neighborhood
beating my head thinking life is really good!
and it doesn't matter what time of day
or what you think or feel or might say:
a timeless story
walking high while falling fast from glory
looking directly at fate
trying not to hurry or be too late
looking over my shoulder
feeling lonesome, tired, and older
and she walks into view;
she wasn't familiar and she wasn't you
there was music and her perfume
she burned me in her room
but i lit the match
it became more than a scratch.
i'm gonna tell you what is happening
but what has been
is probably just another dumb story
of being high and living in sin
and i'm thinking of doing it
all over again
to your face or behind your back
or on the other side of the subway track
in a cute motel with manicured lawn
all night long partying until the dawn
in a beaten down shack in a beaten down neighborhood
beating my head thinking life is really good!
and it doesn't matter what time of day
or what you think or feel or might say:
a timeless story
walking high while falling fast from glory
looking directly at fate
trying not to hurry or be too late
looking over my shoulder
feeling lonesome, tired, and older
and she walks into view;
she wasn't familiar and she wasn't you
there was music and her perfume
she burned me in her room
but i lit the match
it became more than a scratch.