On an embankment of a city I see the ruins painted in autumn’s colors.
They shine in a spring light.
Treasures for the world to see
And many do.
Would you mind if I stepped aside to capture it?
That’s not me I thought.
I don’t need to stand there to understand.
Desire to witness it, feel it, feel small again.
But as a dark sky stands on this embankment of dawn,
I can only lay here in my wondrous surroundings.
Idle walls of thought coexist with ideas of romance, travel.
Castles and Islands await the future king of hearts and queen of diamonds.
Once again air refills my lungs as I am stopped short of falling over.
A quiet descent and reminder of how easy it is to live
And how easier it is to forget.
Our citizens drive by in a race against themselves.
We’re scared of the streets.
We speed because we just can’t get to the next place fast enough.
We’re afraid to be looked at, to be asked for.
Do we hate to go outside?
Under the hot sun, the boiling pot pressure?
It’s something we succumb to.
We are better.
All of us.
I was standing on the balcony of the last floor of this 100 story high rise.
Drink in one hand, cigarette in the other.
Our eyes were gleaming at the vision in front of us.
The town below us.
The distance, almost endless.
You could see for miles.
We were at a party for one of the locals.
Mingling with others.
I was discussing with a friend about how my beer must have been the best tasting beer I had ever had.
He looked at me and laughed.
“It’s pretty good, I must admit,” he responded.
And suddenly, I was bumped into from behind.
My slightly numb hands released the bottle into a freefall over the railing.
We looked as the bottle, holding the great beer, begin a trip of sure catastrophe.
As it sunk the seconds passed along like minutes while the bottle flipped and spilled.
It was helpless and we were only worried for the people below.
We looked up and took one last glance over the horizon,
We stared once more into each others faces.
We looked down when my precious glass bottle,
Premature of a finished drink,
Shattered into a million pieces onto the concrete pavement below.
No one was hurt.
It was all alone.
So every Thursday we rode our buses to unforeseen places.
If we didn’t go last year then we would see it this year.
Remember the bare feet running atop the grass?
Cold and a little scared we were a family.
With CD players linked to our ears we all sang the same songs together for entertainment.
Like vandals we did what we liked.
Oh, how we survived under the grey clouds and skies.
It was all ok.
We were all ok.
In places of teaching we succeeded.
Oh, Moon.
I can see you looking down on me
Behind those moving clouds,
That summer breeze.
The nights are getting colder,
The talks more intelligent.
The nights are getting quieter.
The crickets louder.
The antenna tower above the mountain is smothered by mist and fog.
Such moisture resting in the air.
The lights atop the mountain appear like fireflies.
Oh, dear Moon.
I think it smells of Autumn tonight.
Where am I trying to go?
Where’s the fire?
What’s the rush?
Such impatience has not shown face since the autumn of the year before ours.
My windows are down.
The wind blows through out this machine with the force of a hurricane.
And my plastic indicator feels ready to spin all the way around but something is in its way.
We are all limited.
Right?
But all is well.
This beach front street and the desert canyon road both smell the same. Cold and aided.
Isn’t it funny how we can all live in the desert,
A hill away from an ocean,
yet never find the oasis?
Oh, but we have slowed down.
It was more like water splashed in your face.
And yes, even in our valleys, we are able to witness such discolor.
How foul.
But outside these morose walls live expectations that can be met.
You can see the hue peak just above the peak.
The breath of the city is cold but aided.
The city lights glowing on our ocean and under this city sky.
I toyed with them just to see what they’d do.
The failed to police themselves.
But I can smile.
I may not become overwhelmed.
I must police myself.
And I love to see so much through this stained glass window.
More than I can ever see through yours.
Oh, lord! I must become!
More than you.
And you will never know what I feel tonight.
Sharing a hill with mansions and castles alike
I was stuck in the shade literally near the bottom.
Sharing a hill with the balance of power
we lived quietly among them in a pool of seemingly less importance.
And though only a few blocks away stood houses with pools, life seemed so different to the kid with the home upstairs.
You had your backyard and I had the parks.
You had the front yard and I had my driveway,
Cemented next to the 4 car garage of which we owned one spot.
Temporary.
Waste.
Ownerless.
One could say the patriarch failed us for lack of being special.
Man, a carpenter.
Woman, office.
Mediocrity.
I beg to differ their level of special.
And I never knew what it was like to fall into slumber in a room alone,
Decorated in style, a T.V. with my name on it.
I lacked the presence of man’s best friend
Or the freedom of a high numbered decibel.
Yet different I felt.
And I suppose understandably so.
But lucky I was and am
Of the apartment in the sky
Of which laundry was washed in the same machine as strangers.
Or people on the same path.
It’s all just the cherry on top of feeling so much different
Than the girl in the house next door.
Oh, Mother! Father!
Never once did you fail
At stockpiling the dinner table and blanketing my naked body.
Your beautiful souls may never know the utter joy brought by a never-ending “Yes”
And a loved heart and open mind to succeed with.
Welcome to small town America.
It’s quite quaint and quiet but we talk a little more.
This is Main Street.
A commerce filled boulevard of barber shops and butcher shops, blacksmiths and ice cream parlors.
Ah, can’t forget the general store.
Empty streets and old cars parked in slanted parking spots, kissing the sidewalk.
Bright pale colors.
Reds, blues, greens, white.
White.
The smell of Autumn every day of the year.
A smile and a “Hello” behind every door.
And behind these brick walls of stores rests your new start.
Aisles and aisles of houses packed neatly.
Some quite old and some even newer but still aged.
On Maple Lane is where you will reside.
Over there, in the yellow one with the garage, that’s Joey the barber’s.
2 doors down lives Mike the butcher and wife.
And that house right there, in between them, with the white fence, that one’s yours.
It comes equipped with a lack of responsibility, a fresh rep. and, most importantly, a jacuzzi for the long days.
Mrs. Adamsworth, from across the street, is jealous.
Everyone on the block already knows your name but don’t fright, everything they said was nice.
Oh, and 4 doors down and across the street lives Melanie or Mel, whichever you prefer.
She lives in the cute little seagreen house with the white window panes.
She’s the one that will take your vows one day and, don’t worry, she’s already got her eye on you.
She’s got bright blonde hair and these big green eyes.
She likes jazz and Van Gogh, Back To The Future and Pleasantville.
She’s never ruled out that her life could be like The Truman Show
and she loves the rain.
Gloomy days are perfect for anything and she’s gotta sleep with the air conditioner on.
And as you dream she sees the skyline of Chicago, at night, from the 50th floor balcony.
She grew up on Boy Meets World and Family Matters, Home Improvement and MTV
And she’s convinced that Football is divinely inspired.
Doesn’t drink coffee much but will sip on your hot chocolate.
Her quarterback will always be Brett Favre and will wake with you to watch a 4 a.m. tennis match from the All England Club.
She likes sprinkles atop her ice cream and pizza is a love but her specialty is lasagna and for dessert, some carrot cake.
She’d rather eat at Mel’s than McDonalds and a cozy night in is always one better than a night on the town.
Don’t get her wrong though.
She’s always down for a dance in the middle of central park under the city lights.
She listens to almost everything and her favorite CD is still Tragic Kingdom,
But any acoustic anything will melt her heart.
She votes Republican, I know you can’t win ’em all.
It’s only ’cause her mama does, but she spells God: L-O-V-E.
She doesnt mind seeing the world from the book sitting at the fireplace but would hop on the first flight to Palermo or Edinburgh or Dublin.
Did I mention that she loves the rain?
You’re on your own from here and I know you know the way back.
This is the beginning of your new life.
Everyone here is so fond.
Just remember… The way back doesn’t always lead home.
Never forget that…
The moon sits quietly glamorous in between the clouds.
The clouds appear like little puzzle pieces, scattered around a table, as they slowly come together to form a blanket over us tonight.
Yet, with all the clouds, the moon remains untouched.
The star that clings to it must be a million light years away,
But tonight it’s just looking for a friend.
A little patch of clouds under this velvet purple night.
They’re surrounded by a sprinkle of stars from space
But they’ve yet to reach ground.
They are suspended in the night sky.
And if only I could turn off these city brights
And stare right into the star that shines the most light.
It’s got me twisting words.
The higher you look up the darker the sky gets.
From the purple that sleeps atop the back of the mountain
to the black up above that seems endless with thought.
These stars appear frozen in time falling to Earth.
I am reminded of the peace we sleep under.
Look at the cloud now, it’s disappeared.