Say Hello To Me

Strobe lights passed their bodies as they spun around and around.
Her wet hair whipped in the face as she twirled.

Street lights turned on as they stepped outside.
The broken bulbs flickered to the beat of their steps.

Puddles from the recent rain infected the streets and potholes roared with water running underneath.

Buildings were moist and sweaty as the headlights bounced off of them.
Rust formed and paint was peeling with every loose raindrop from the gutters above.

The steel emergency door closed behind them without a sound.
Party goers disabled the alarms for their quick exits.

She clung onto his arm even though they were trapped in his pockets.
Like instinct, he handed her his jacket as she shivered.

After many small laughs and staring sessions, he pressed her up again the wall using his jacket as her protection from the building's dew.

His forehead rested on hers.

"Let's go the car."

Her soft voice barely carried through out the alleyway, but he could still hear her.

As they left the alleyway, the moonlight brightened up their cold faces. Shadows cast to the lamppost and the distant coffee shop across the street.

Though it was dark, the night warmed them.

They fell asleep in the back of his car, staring out the sunroof at the endless stars that resembled endless people and endless possibilities.

Falling for Coattails

I'm standing on stilts that don't support me.
I'm wasting stamps that could have saved me.
I'm giving everything but only blown kisses return to me.

I watched as her platinum blond hair slipped away through my fingers.
Her fedora turned and she disappeared into the crowd with a wink.

Even as she turned, she still glowed with that glow that only make-up commercial models seem to have.

Even with this stingy subway lighting, she was an angel.

Her drifting long coat bounced off of the crowd's suitcases and low hanging purses and created waves better than the open ocean.

She looked like a detective with the way she was leading me on.

I could have kept going, but the doors closed on me and I was left standing on the platform.

Her deep hazel eyes locked on to mine as she drifted away with a thin smile like those of thieves.

I wanted to meet her, talk to her, listen to her story.

Maybe we'll meet again at a coffee shop or a newsstand. Maybe we'll strike up a conversation.

Some things are better left to the mind to fantasize about.

That's what makes the mystery.

Staring at the screen.

Personalized to the point of robots.
Imaginary people tapping me on the shoulder.
Soft tunes. Playing.
Half slanted eye lids.
Good times well lost.
Time is a Lost and Found that will never rebound because someone keeps stealing the things that others cannot find. This makes it impossible to recover.
Better thank who you want. Everyone knows it might be too late.
Conversations with myself telling myself where to go with my life.
Is it too late for me?
The broken keys rebound with someone else keeps on the ground.
Don't let someone else shine in your spotlight. Don't give up the podium for your Grammy.
Be there because you want to be; not because you have to be.

Be careful where you get off. Too soon and you're stupid. Too late and you're stupid.
Bumping people isn't your problem.
Just keep floating forward.

Take a bus to nowhere as nowhere is where you belong.
Don't say that you can't do anything when you're listening to a motivational song.
Don't say that you aren't capable.

Stop pushing my breathe away from the base of your neck.
Just resting for a moment.

Continue on a road trip forever if you want. Go to Rhode Island, St. Louis, Oakland, CA. Drive in a beat down blue car. Take my battered soul if you want. I'll be here when you get back.

You are coming back right?

Join a pirate ship for fun. Don't waste time on a the newspaper in the morning.
Be the best you can be.

Let me hold you like a baby.
Let me hold please.
Let me rest on top of you only for a moment.
Let me hear your heartbeat when you think of me.
Let me listen to you.
Let me be wit you. Let me join what's going on.

Losing control of motor functions kills my hands.
I fell and skipped a song.

What Novel?

The woman cut closer and closer.
I could hear the blades file together every time. The sound of cutting paper grazed my follicles. I was worried about the outcome.
There was no traditional barber shop around my house, just around the corner.
There was no nice elderly man to greet you at the door.

Instead I got this girl with fingernails the color of my candy apple red guitar who snapped her gum like it was the 90's.

"So where do you go to school, hun?"

Her questions circled my ears and drifted in and out.

"Huh?"

"I said, where do you go to school?"

"Oh, um. Richardson High."

The hairdryer drifted in and out like the conversation.

"How do you like it there?"

I wondered why she asked these meaningless questions. I guessed she just wanted to start a conversation. Her faded red bandanna and curly blonde hair made me like her though.

"It's alright. The classes are boring, but then again, what classes aren't?"

Snip, snip, snip.

The cold blades stung for seconds at a time.

The manual lawnmower of my mind.

She laughed in that small inhale laugh that sounds like people choking on their on spit.

I glanced over at the brunette sitting behind the desk at the front. Her feet up on the desk and pointy glasses, she looked like another teen clone model.

She was also popping gum.

Every so often, she would flip a page in her fashion and gossip magazine and sniff at the perfume samples. Both her ears and mine were filled with the latest rap hit that was rattling through her headphones.

I hope she goes deaf.

The woman waiting on the plastic covered bench out front was talking on her phone. She was talking with her mouth open since it's law to do so while putting make up on.

After several minutes of struggling, she settled into a position that was most efficient.
She stared into the mirror with every intention of making it into perfection.

I hope she goes blind.

Further than that, they were arguing. She kept pointing the finger at him and he kept backing up and his eyes began to look more like shiny orbs than olives.

"I'm SORRY!" you could hear through the glass.
"NO NO NO! I HATE YOU. YOU DON'T SUPPORT ME."
"I DO."

You could tell he did.

I hope she can't feel anymore.

Snip, snip.

"You're almost done honey."

I hoped so.

I needed to go talk to someone.

The little bell on the door made a jingle.

The lady at the desk didn't flinch.

Her face was hidden in the doorway by the glare of the sun on the glass door.

My savior.

Four Leaf Clover

No matter how rare they are. How unique and beautiful they are.
They're all the same.

Sure I hate my life.
Sure I became a corporate sucker even though I told my friends I wouldn't
Sure I think I'm special, but I'm just one of the same.

I couldn't live my dreams.

The Specials spend their whole lives different, but not hated. They're sitting in a row of regulars waiting to be discovered.

Failed conspiracies started by a Four Leaf Clover.

Nature keeps things in line. Petals of five, even legs, odd clovers. The "lucky" ones are mutants of a "chaotic" government trying to keep things orderly.

After being discovered, they're cherished until another is found.

Some keep a jar of them. I dub thee Hollywood.

Some spend hours looking for one in a field.
They think they've found a beautiful, unique, special four leaf clover, only to find that it has the same shade as all the others.

I'm the trio of umbrellas for microorganisms.

I do not have opposable thumbs, only stubby fingers.
I do not have a memory, only a faulty tape recorder.
I do not have a heart, only dirty pipes.

Veins flow of chlorophyll with a photographic image.

Please don't try to develop it, it'll only come out black.
Don't look for anything special in my lucky penny.
I am the reason they're mad.

I am the three leaf clover in disguise.
I am the ocean wave the same as the last.
I am the cloud that looks like a train but made up of the same thing as others.

No personality.

A poser clover.

A poser clover tied down by nature.
A poser clover too afraid to grow more shade.

I should have known that I should be happy with what I have.

Who knows?

I might be liked.