Couch Surfing

I woke up to whiskey fingertips on hushed lips
The carpet I slept on
Was clean
Except for the cigarette ashes and spilled beer
Over the years
We create history in our floors
For others to wake up on.

Ring Finger

Last night I was looking through my closet
When I found a bag full of your stuff
There was that Valentine's Day card you painted
And a note you wrote me the first time I left.
Do you still have anything of mine?
Is that ring with the heart on your finger,
Or it it rusting in your drawer?
Have you worn those shoes I bought you,
Or are they collecting dust in a box?
Your fingers used to dance all over my body
And rest between my thighs
When they were done, I put them in my pocket
And never gave them back.

Sing Crickets, Sing

We sat in the basement
Listening to the songs your grandfather sang along to
You told me we're living a novel;
We're only playing the part
And our words were merely fiction
I kissed you on the cheek
And departed to start my autobiography.

Get Single

Please.

Arm Wrestling In the Garden

He wrote me down and spoke my words
Sung my songs and let out my melodies
You do a better job at being me than I.

Pinball

On one end of the hall was
You: laughing, crying and pointing. I could see the dirt in your fingernails and the despair in your dirty looks.
On the other end of the hall, well that's
Me: empty, floating and sinking. You could see my shoes are full of feet and secrets.

What ever are we to do? There you are and here am I.
There is so much
Oxygen
Between us.
All I want to do is kiss your fucking lips off.

One Autumn Evening

Like paper bags
We blew through stop signs
And floated around the night
Hands held with our acid girlfriends
Being chased by the sun.

Banjo

I swam in your curls
You smelled all my flowers
The first date always
Gets me floating for hours.