i stroll outside and look upon the great divide,
grass and then 2 parts gravel, 1 part sand,
with water as the binding agent, then back
to grass.
those wheels roar down the street making
as much noise as a cinco de mayo party and
i'm watching the end of a cigarette light up
and shine a spotlight on my eyes.
"no officer, i haven't been drinking" floats
through my mind as i watch the street sign
shake from side to side. it reminds me of your
eyes when we talk.
she lashes out at me, saying that i don't get it
and she's right, i don't. i'm too content with
torturing myself with putty knives and writing
love letters along hip bones to care.
i turn my back on the great divide, realizing
that perhaps it wasn't that great at all, and
walk back inside where the silence gives me
a chance to breathe.
grass and then 2 parts gravel, 1 part sand,
with water as the binding agent, then back
to grass.
those wheels roar down the street making
as much noise as a cinco de mayo party and
i'm watching the end of a cigarette light up
and shine a spotlight on my eyes.
"no officer, i haven't been drinking" floats
through my mind as i watch the street sign
shake from side to side. it reminds me of your
eyes when we talk.
she lashes out at me, saying that i don't get it
and she's right, i don't. i'm too content with
torturing myself with putty knives and writing
love letters along hip bones to care.
i turn my back on the great divide, realizing
that perhaps it wasn't that great at all, and
walk back inside where the silence gives me
a chance to breathe.
pixie:
That's pretty sweet. I always think I should write what I am thinking down, in a poetic sort of way. But, I never do. Never seems to be a pen around at the right time. Although I did write crappy poetry in middle school.