We Are The Only One

I believe in perfect women
because I am one

I believe in the perfect man
because I deserve him

I believe in people
because we are the only ones
who made up words
to describe every thing
we have ever seen
and felt

Ennui is a French word
Kindergarten is German

If you are not excited yet
I believe it is the punctuation
you are missing

I can see the mess we've made,
but this is not a train wreck.

I am looking around
and seeing people that are just like me.

Stop looking for a beginning or end.
There is no way you could enter this world,
except for in the middle, accept it.

If this seems like a love letter,
it is.

Just Give Me a Bullet

Just give me a bullet
I will ponder on its caliber
and root around
in my bag of tricks
for a gun
it will fit into

Just give me a bullet
I will finger its nuances
for showmanship
Present it to you
and palm it
like a magician

Just give me a bullet
I will fumble around just enough
make you believe
in Sunday mornings

Just give me a bullet
I will pretend you meant a bull's eye
and will hit it

First, Second, Third Person, and You

First Person:

I was told the first person's name was Adam
I wonder who gave him his name,
if not his mother before him.
In Hebrew, Adam means "man", "clay", or "earth"
and is the oldest relative of me, you, and Jesus.
I sometimes feel comforted by this,
entertaining the idea that goodness
is a direct line with no obstructions
and the very blood I bleed proves it.

I tire of thinking of myself all of the time.
It is completely situational and exhausting.

If you were here, I could think of us.

If you are reading this, I am writing it for you.


Second Person: You

You are a character in my book.
You actually haven't been mentioned yet.
The final scene leans heavy on your presence,
is very dialogue driven,
and requires a suspension of disbelief.
You are the central character so everyone else
is preparing the audience for your entrance.
You get nervous in crowds so it is just us now.
Take your time. There is no rush.

You enter stage left and say,
"This is a play."

You take center stage, you take in the room.

The audience of one is captivated...by you.


Third Person:

She would do well if she edited her poetry
or abbreviated her day drinking.
She didn't know him from Adam,
but he had never met a stranger and remembers
her and other things she chooses to forget.
"He is unaware of himself", she thought,
as they walked to her record player, together,
and in one swift motion he explained her.
He had no idea what he had just signed up for.

Arkansas is quiet tonight,
even the cicadas sing in a whisper.

Shhhhhhhhhh...they say in hushed words.

He is glad he is hers