sardonic syllables

(can anybody love anyone so much

that they never fear

never worry, never be sad

the answer is they cannot love this much

nobody can

this is why i don’t mind you doubting

-howard jones)

 

mellow buzz

just a little fuzz

on my brain

 

house party

on a hill

staring at the sea

was only thinking

i haven’t quit drinking

cause drinking hasn’t quit me

 

i hear a voice

tone inflecting

i am a choice

as she draws near

 

stunning beauty

but all i can hear

are voices in my head

i’m standing here

cigarette and a beer

what about me makes you think

about a bed

 

usually i’m just a poem

you want to rename

rearrange and rewrite

i love delight

and my need is great

cause sex is rarely

in my sights

 

but one night stands

are not the same as

still hand in hand

when life has left you with

nothing to offer to each other

 

suddenly i realize she’s still talking

i look at her from the corner of my eye

she doesn’t deserve my despise

for her advances

after all this is a drinking party

and the burdens of my mind

are not her fault

 

i lean over and kiss her cheek

tell her she is the most beautiful woman

i’ve seen in a long, long time

but i’m gay

 

she walks away

hey, this is l.a.

no one doubts when you say those words

 

i sigh

light yet another cigarette

as useless as me

put my plugs in my ear

grab another beer from the barrel

filled with ice

select mazzy star

walk past all the cars

of all the guest

and find some rest

on the sidewalk

that is leading me away

back to

the dark streets of decay

 

and the me i am condemn to be

 

i know most guys

would say,

“dude,

she totally wanted to sleep with you”

but i’ll get all the sleep i need when i die

 

yes

sex is a compromise

but i’m hiding in tall grass

waiting for you to identify me

as something other than a weed

 

it’s not like she said to me,

“i read your book

the dark streets of decay

and fell in love with you”

 

the ones who have read it

look at me as something they can still save

 

so i make my way

from polished posh

to dirty grime

cleaned up by slime

untwist the top of my flask

and ask

the same thing as howard jones,

“what is love?”

 

***