I’ve lived a thousand lives
Each with its own forgotten festivals
In sync and alone.
Sometimes I was in focus
Sometimes I walked along the side –
Watching,
Waiting to be let in.
Keeping pace…
Scrambling over the debris.
Making fires to keep warm.
But whether I was center stage
or just there to pour the wine,
I always gave it all I had.
Save for a little piece of purity
So I had a way to get back home.
And now that they’re all that matters…
Now that the line has been drawn…
You’ve gotta knock.
There’s no rushing in and expecting favors.
I’ve retired.
Like a thousand times before.
And though there’s always room for laughter.
Always room to tease temptation.
There’s no room to get caught on the wind:
Transfixed on a mix of colors…
Calculating how crazy that sounds…
Fascinated on how fantastic it feels…
Not anymore.
Maybe in the next life?
Maybe I’ll find a way to remember?
Maybe this is the memory?
Guiding my hand in reflection.
Out here on the fading tip
of last night’s dream.
I was born in the desert.
I was reborn there too.
Again and again…
I saw the sunset a million times
At the edge of the lion’s den.
Maybe next go around I’ll be a carpenter?
Ignore the wavy lines.
And the soft caress?
Keep my hands clean
Steer away from the drama
Instead of pushing my way in.
Maybe I’ll knock first?
Maybe I’ll focus on sunrises?
Or maybe I’ll kick the door down
And do it all over again?
Sitting at someone else’s table
A court jester with an appetite.
It’s making me smile right now.
It’s more of a smirk.
All the muscles in a march to one side of my face.
Son of bitch.
I can’t get the taste out of my mouth.
Like a thousand times before.
Tribe Of Flannel 