irishjayne

(as told through a swing dance and a physics textbook)

The boy is but an echo 
The boy is but a tune 
The boy is but a sharp
The boy is but a scuff in wood 
The boy is but a pause between sets, a present

III. 
(for e) 

in two years we will be back in the bean bar-
no just listen to me for a second-
and you will be playing piano
and singing with your voice 
like a crystal vase and will have forgotten my name

II.

I had a dream where I was so sure
that even though you are as stoic as a block of marble 
and drive yourself to the doctor and the
grocery store
and you’ve told me to shut up
& I’ve been afraid and also awed

I.

we all learned in 3rd grade
why the sun sets at 4:30 in December
and sometimes I dream about this
or maybe not this specifically but anyway
I wake up knowing the light on the 3rd 

Could you pretend for a moment I am not 
a godless heathen or
words not precious enough to speak,
your mother’s least-holy cross,
the pull-out couch the babysitter
fell asleep on

blackjack played for secrets,

never liked this road in rain
but it’s different when someone else is driving
free to look out the window, see
street lights poured in wells of pavement
all the bulbs flicking
out in the pharmacy.
when the music on is my own