I can say without looking that I want it.
Look ma, no hands.
I’m not usually sure,
but of this I am.
We can sail on this spaceship,
I can take you away for a while.
And sometimes, just to keep mine up,
I memorize your smile.
I’m somewhere in a cloud and it’s raining.
That was the worst car ride we’ve ever taken.
I’m sorry it had to end that way.
Last night, my mother dreamed we were doomed.
Tonight, I sobbed in her arms like a baby.
She told me I needed to do the right thing.
Overthought and underappreciated.
You asked me to try. I tried.
Who could stay happy that way?
All projects need work, but two workers.
The rain is ending. The cloud has moved.
I look around the room and I am loved.
Let’s continue down the same path
effortlessly down the green grass hills.
Slow motion.
I look back to us,
and there’s no way we won’t
reach the water.
Can you see where my mind is?
Lost at sea and I’m wandering.
I’m looking for someone.
What was rock has shattered.
What was ice has melted.
This isn’t cool.
Hallucinations hit.
I don’t know what to believe
anymore.
Under this hot light,
it’s my only view
to the notes I love to play.
I sweat for you.
But the sweat runs down faster on the fast food worker
cleaning the sidewalk.
His last duty of the day, as his young son watches,
because there’s no one to watch him,
but he doesn’t mind or know.
23:00.
I’ve got something up my sleeve for you,
just wait.
I’ll get my way.
Things will change.
He’s spending time with his father,
who he loves more than life.
He’s working for something better,
something more for his son.
23:00 on a Saturday.
I’ve got something up my sleeve for you,
just wait.
I’ll get my way.
Things will change.
When will we match quality with logic?
What do they see when they wake up?
Where will they receive a meal tonight?
I wish they knew.
60 and a paperboy.
35 with three jobs.
20 and branded illegal.
15 and pregnant.
8 and starved.
When will we lower our weapons?
When we learn to love.
I am here to move mountains,
not kick sand.
I am here to build cities
taller than the last.
I am here to erase our parents mistakes
by playing in the snow.
So bring a jacket,
it’s going to rain.
Why can’t they be heard?
Why can’t our heads turn in the direction
to where they yell for our forgiveness
of whatever they did that made us forget them?
I would love to think that it doesn’t mean anything
that our dish soap is made by some company I’ve never heard of,
but it does.
I would love to think that it doesn’t mean anything
that my mom has to fill the shampoo bottle with water,
but it does.
I would like to think my dad not working is just
a sign of the times,
but it’s not.
Sports car in the garage,
but only cereal to eat.
Digital cable, flat screen TV,
but no milk to drink.
College tuitions, hundreds in text books,
no gas to get there.
Being a middle-class citizen with a grip on what once was,
a reality is shared.