got a bump from a stranger
that’s why I feel the urge
to expell my heart on paper tonight
I’ll admit it
yes, I did it
he offered and I took
powder – coke or E or some other letter of the alphabet
I don’t know
puffed on a cigar for an hour
talked about real estate in this part of town

still, you are centre stage
the star of my dreams
if you were a drug
I’d take you on a knife blade without question
because I am high on you
every second of the day
can’t be without you
more than a moment without
wanting you

this is bad for a writer
but, I know
this is the writer’s place
I suppose you are my muse
my inspiration
my station at which I refuel
you are my well

but now I am caught, because I am a writer

what am I supposed to write about now
other than you
you are my all-consuming
you are my obsession
you are my all
my rhythm, my beat, my time
the raft on which I set ablaze
all the memories of my own yore
good-bye yesterdays of loneliness
a viking funeral to all the old pain
and loves
to leave space
for that which I love now

how should love be
hope that I’ll have it all figured out

no

always running away
I understand all the philosophy
I know now – it is not all there is
flowers and pleasant farewells
it is life in the mines
digging away at the dusty core
covering yourself with soot and dirt and sweat
before you reach
a bed of crystaline beauty
and once that beauty hits you
all other pursuits seem pointless

have I found that diamond
have I broken through
have I found that one with whom to share eternity
such thoughts seem scary
but what of the opposite
a life of loneliness
a life of solitude

yes, you could do it
you could handle it
you know it
you know you could exist
without God
without wife
without child
without partner
without friend
without world
without love
we all know this – you have nothing to prove

so just shut up, old fool
shut up and just be happy
be happy
with her