if we're both single at 35 and we're still alive but lonely
if we both have a house but we're still homeless
how about then? let's get together then, maybe i can love you then...
and of course i said yes, i'd have been there if you were 80
with your hair on fire and forks in your eyes
i didn't really care, i'm afraid i was just crazy for you
so now i tried to survive for a decade of ice age, and i swore to you
i swore that if next month i fall off a horse and get dragged for miles and my legs shatter
well at least we danced that one time
and if a fighter jet swoops too low in 2010 and sonic booms blow my eardrums clean out
well your voice always made me smile
and if on the 7th year the resistance is infiltrated and they catch me and drag me before the grand council, who demand to know all the deep secrets of our order, well i'll never tell, so if they tear my tongue apart with pincers and hot irons
know that i meant every word i never said to you, and i still do
and if on the eve of the march of the 9th year i am hit by a bus and struck down
know that when they pour me into that box and drop me six feet south, every worm that feeds on me is just going to starve soon after
because suddenly they'll only have a taste for you.
all that i swore.
and if this all sounds too dire now
well okay, i might have been painting in monochrome
but just remember, when the gods dropped a boulder on sissyphus and gave him his uphill burden
they didn't count on erosion. and neither did i
but after 10,000 years and an ice age, even the biggest boulder breaks and will be worn down
so i scooped up the small stone of you and placed it in my pocket for safekeeping
and sometimes you still jangle against my thigh
but at least i could start rolling myself uphill
and when i reached the plateau and slept
i didn't just set up camp, i built a house
and sometimes new houses do become homes
so if i should move across this land and meet a beautiful girl
well -- it won't work, bad timing
but i've got to learn that sometimes people have fresher boulders than i
and those wilting orchids on my mantle wish you a speedy erosion.
and thank you, beautiful eroder
for helping to wear down my boulder
by reminding me that more people are almost perfect
and maybe it's time to give up on the one who used to be.
but giving up is admitting that the filigree of fantasy
that carried me through my internal desert is a fraud
and the visions in my head are not you, they're cherry-picked pictures
of what i wanted and thought you could be while i filled you up with marionettes
who looked like you and spoke like me and thought never at all.
they crowded your form to bloat, bursting out your worn seams
to let words of love spill forth
and fill me up as well.
but if the altar i tried to sacrifice myself on was my own
no matter how many sheep blunder into bushes at the last moment to save me for a time
i'll always remember how willing i was to wield the knife.
so that's 2 crossed off my checklist with boxes unchecked
and ain't that a shame? and ain't it crass to make a list
of everyone i want to kiss, but at least when all my arrows miss
i'll still know where i stand.
you see, once my dad gave me some sad advice
an algorithm for sex, when your game won't suffice
because hearts are glorious, incalculable, but bodies are nice.
so i'm finding a few and i guess i'll abide
and bide my time until more stars align in skies than in her eyes
and for once inevitability will be on my side
and i'll finally find a mannequin i can claim as my own
and make love to myself reflected in her eyes.
and that girl in my bedroom trying on her new shoes won't know i still dream about you
but at least i'll have a beautiful poem to whisper in her ear.