Your a Wonder

standing above the clouds
never looking down and only

looking to the sun. Baron plains
kiss her heels like an ant

kisses ours. Sweet sting steals
thunder from there home-

keeps it for herself as she bows
to thank the sun for 

another day.

It’s been awhile, yet;

your back here on this starless night-

with blue eyes and white lies.

You left on your milky way-

wayless, but

you came back.

It’s like you never left-

left your saddle to the left

of this bed, our bed,

the one you never left.

 

Memory flipping like a yearbook.

She used to wear red lipstick to dances 

and a respectable dresses​. Now

she teaches her daughter what to wear.

He brought beer to every party he would go to. Leaving

with someone new every night.

Now they share a house and a daughter going to her first dance.

I see you

in my dreams we dance to no music

holding each other close. I never

want this song to end. I never

want to leave this bed.

I see you

in random faces passing in the street

holding another close

buying a pajamas for them. So they

don’t have to leave this bed.

The beginning is an unopened map.

A calm pond without a neighbor.

A sprout in a lumonent spring garden.

The sun peaking over molded canyons.

 I am not your father. We

own this together, together

our duty

is to mark this map.

Lay in the garden tending to the tulips.

Swim in the pond and climb those canyons-

as one.

Stale conversation, no

repetitive conversation

with golden courage.

“Where are you from?

How many siblings do you have?

Where do you work?”

Not enough golden courage.

Really just a stabilizer to keep

the breathe roaming along

a narrow path of stim-

ulation.

The thrill of the hunt bites

the heart and never lets go. Bleed

down the forest and disrupt

tranquility. Bundle of roses for the beauty

and a bow for the hunter. Two breathes

before onyx eyes and the 60’s forest dissolves

on your tongue and your shaky palms dive

into your own life festering on the rooted earth-

you’ll see the great adventure.

 

We’ve been here before. The same

culdesac were your grandparents lived.

We held hands at there funerals and sang

Tiny Dancer. It was their song. Now its our

song. Whisper into my ear that you’ll hold me

closer. Dance on the pavement and count the head-

lights on highway. I’ll be your Tiny dancer and will live

here

at

your

grand-

parents

home until the lights go out.