I've ruptured aspirations,
slicing my imagination,
the memories bleeding out
into the last vestiges of summer.
into the last vestiges of summer.
An accidental tripping, stumbling,
crashing into aging,
crashing into aging,
convulsing on the edges,
cracking wise before the fall.
cracking wise before the fall.
I've torn asunder wonder
and my civic standing today,
and my civic standing today,
the neighbors - slinking caffeine junkies -
take their sojourn elsewhere.
take their sojourn elsewhere.
As the weather turns from August swelter
to September autumn amber,
to September autumn amber,
I wander through my yesteryear book,
making sick upon the page.
She's half gone, slipping softly
through my psyche today,
speaking a language I can't fathom
with a hope that's not named Bob.
That piece of her remaining rains down
hatred dressed as passion,
as I surrender punch drunk
on the wrong side of my needs.
Finally, a steely-eyed truth arises:
50 years of breathing,
knocking me flat back on the floorboards,
staring up at the ceiling looking down.
making sick upon the page.
She's half gone, slipping softly
through my psyche today,
speaking a language I can't fathom
with a hope that's not named Bob.
That piece of her remaining rains down
hatred dressed as passion,
as I surrender punch drunk
on the wrong side of my needs.
Finally, a steely-eyed truth arises:
50 years of breathing,
knocking me flat back on the floorboards,
staring up at the ceiling looking down.
