We stand on the dock,
The sun has set,
But I can see your happiness
Even in the dead of night.
The streetlight's on,
The metal is all rusted
And covered in salt,
And you push me up against it.
The metal cool on my skin,
Cooler than the water
When we dip the tips of our toes in,
Laughing about nothing at all
And I think I can get used to this.
I had a vision
Of crimson vines
And blackened sleeves,
And pastry palms
Holding strawberries.
If I turned my heart
I am thinner than I thought:
Though my scale says I'm not,
I can see the sour fruit I've caught.
In the spring, the flowers call
Like I could be King of them all,
Burning in the sun before the fall.
not a cola or a root beer;
something in between
like a tortured machine—
it will power down soon.
that tang on your tongue
is from my chewed up wires,
lightning should show through smoke
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