pocketed smiles

thinking aloud. acting all proud. dreaming of wishes never meant to be. the dream of the stream and the simple flow from arm and elbow. stop to wonder. a wish and some thunder. groping and moping and rhyming the timing. all balanced stupidly on the back of the mexican sunset. the days go by without advancing and the smiles get pocketed for a rainy day.

flowing rivers of magnitudinal joy

bless the flowers of eden dancing on the banks of the wabasha. save the bond salesmen from reno. drink the cup the floweth over and spills on the cape may boardwalk. dreams of sand and bags of brand washed up on the oceans forearm. solid stairs and crisp corners tucked inside the modern second home of the anesthesiologist. rivers flowing past the vacation homes and bargain basement wife swappers convention. to dream the dreams with how it is, not the way it seems. inside the break room, outside the boardroom, inside the darkroom, balancing on the exposure beam. the river flows , the river flows, the river flows, on and on and on and on.

frolicking on the ruins

the golden orb overtook the bragging tropical sunset. dust settled around the camp fire. stories and brandy and cheep vodka and swirls of swollen kneecaps and undigested information. brown sky morning. sound guy warning. breathing by the pinhole in your bag. wondering where she's from and where she went. ice cream parlor lights yellowing this summer's eve. lamb faced moths and flies and foreign objects fluttering. the counter top wiped and clean. clean like the back of her neck. you're staring. a few strands of the sweet, sweaty hair subtly clinging to her bronzed colleged neck. campfire again. bad company, good vibration baby. the smoke grasping at the night air, slicked and slacked, back around the bend. the days of pinioned pontoons. frolicking on the ruins.