it is all but a dream that we must wake from laying in a strange bed
rumpled sheets, comforter halfway off the bed
sleeping on the wood floor
the trees stand silently today like grim faced soldiers standing guard
mourning the passing of souls…time
so he went to sea to get away from what little the land offered him
the sea makes no promises
climb aboard your ship and sail to your destiny
in your barely seaworthy bag of boards
your fate awaits, bad or great
look at him, just dripping in cool
mr. a/c
he only saw red once in a blue moon
nobody can remember when that was many moons
I look out at the waves and admire their persistence
never discouraged, always on the move
o weary wanderer; have you no place to call home?
always with a rucksack in your hand
is not out in the cold better than in the fire?
better to taste the snow than the flames
the soul only has what you put into it
wherever it is
there was joy in the lightning, joy in the thunder
kisses in the rain and hugs in the wind
the universe is eternal, yet what is contained within is not
mountains will fall in the sea, cities turn to dust
the great metal gods will turn to rust
maintain course 15 degrees west of east
the corner table was secluded and dark, just the way we like it
quite quiet and away from the din
I certainly didn’t expect to find it in South Boston, but yet there it was
you never know when you might run across it
no mood, no cry
like an island in the middle of a cold cold sea
