There are nights when my fists are like dew drops hitting the fertile ground.
And my eyes jump at invisible things in the grass, like kittens on balls of yarn.
My heart beats steadily, expanding and collapsing like the ebb and flow in the Mediterranean.
My back stretches on for miles, like the Gobi dessert, exhausting, daunting and utterly unforgiving.
My ears, listening closely. Like all plant life on Earth, stretching towards the night sky, begging for rain.
My ribcage like a mountain side, my stomach a lake at the basin, my intestines a river that stretches on forever.
My ghost comes alive. I am so haunted.
I crawl like a mud skipper, I call ever so sinister, for attention, much like a spoiled child.
I ask for my father.
Seems he stepped out for a beat.
I hope I don’t miss him again.
The Christmas tree stands tall and bright. A lighthouse in my living room. Towering.
He comes bearing gifts. He likes his drinks Ice cold and he has a thing for water.
Outside the traffic is saying my name, in all his revving, screeching, honking glory.
There’s an ambulance, the Virgin Mary, she’s crying tonight. Bawlin’ sister.
There’s that old blues club, them cats are dusty and dirty. But they get blood on the knobs.
I think I’m gonna catch a cab and go to that bakery tonight. Get me some of that wheat bread.
Think I’m gonna sit alone for once, just like every night.
I want my coffee pitch black, like my mind. I want it hot, like my passion.
My daddy’s crossing country roads in places I’ve never heard of. He’s hitchhiking his way through places.
He has a map, and he has apple pie and sweet tea with honey. He has smiles. Only smiles.
Sometimes he stands on a hilltop, and he waves into the horizon. He’s saying hello world, but it sounds more like “Hello son”.
He has miles under his feet. He’s a cool cat in a world full of Martyr Tuna.
Here I am. Summer in the grass. Summer in the dew. Summer under the looking glass of the world. Summer alone. And I wish I could watch you watch me thinking of you.
I have honey coursing through my veins. And I have your breath to power this heavy machine. I have mud to trudge through, I have bridges to cross. But I also have a way with coming out on top.
So watch me sit here and burn. Watch me. Learn something.
My head’s hurting. I’ll retreat to the hideout now.
Be good to each other.
