A change is coming
and it's good because i've been method acting
the sad mick on the corner selling
stories of my childhood
to any stranger looking to be inspired for years
shaking my cup made of blank folded pages
waiting to hear the din of a city's bent phrases
picking up words off the asphalt dropped
by the drones skip jumping from one stepping stone
to the next, i'm just waiting for the right hand
ciggie burn, camera click and scene switch
i'm not alone here though,
because two can play this game and play we have
acting the supporting roles in eachother's lifelong
tragedies but when painted faces and
costumed days become the typical we don't quite know
what to do when it's: good show, old friend, take a bow and take your leave
you were the one who first
pressed my spine to the sky and dusted
cobwebs off chakral catacombs just to see
what kind of bugs we'd attracted
and it worked out for the best because this
light never shined as bright as when your fingers
did the striking
i was dull and flickering when you found me
cross eyed and tongue tied
living in empty crossroad romances
shouting over screaming tires into
blank universal expanses
looking for a deeper meaning
in the psychedelic trance dances
with pen calloused hands you
pulled me up from the tumble down rabbit hole
alligned my body with my mind
rewriting the lines i'd been confined to for decades
and gave me purpose
since then we have been greek marathon athletes
running tag team through muddy streets living in
our shared racing heartbeats
we complete the pattern,
good things for good people
trailing behind it's your back that takes the most
familiar shape, but it's your back without the voice to tell
your feet to do the waiting,
my soles met your soles on suede and soaked soil
and we're tired and battered but the race is
far from over
so we keep on forward, one foot in front of the other
chasing california dreams and sweet sunshine cover
until we can drop, bruised and sweat soaked
and be still for a while
in laying here, i could count your vertebrae
and write poems on your retreating
but this leaving is a burden, bone
breaking and beloved and i don't know
how to spit when the fire from my lips only knows
enough to sink war ships
and i'm doing my best just to keep this afloat
it would be so easy just to let ourselves sink
join the rusted ruins at the bottom of the sea
but our need to breathe is greater than our
need to sleep
so fill your lungs and hold it tight
we have so much further yet to go
a change is coming and it's good because,
for a second, this was a love song
one of those puppy dog eyes, sweating palm songs
one of those thick-tongue, can't find the words songs
but don't be mistaken, this is our swan song
one last epic testament to the babel tower
we have built, rising it up from the muck and
the mire stretching stacked calendar days
to the heavens and higher
knowing this prison of cracked bricks
and sticks is the best platform from which to jump
beyond ourselves
a change is coming
but please don't be scared, i know the gyres are turning
and we're counting down moon phases
until the cities start burning
and the lesson we've spent the last ten midnight's learning
is that crossing our fingers won't stop the tides turning
this is happening whether we like it or not
so take one last gasp in, approach nirvana
in the inhalations
let that calm reach your head
reach your body
reach your lungs
pray for flight, blind leaping into the sun-rising sky
and until our colliding plot lines
decide to star cross eyes again
it's good luck, godspeed, goodbye
