Beautiful Boy
The kid down the street has his kite stuck in the dogwood.
Bob is in the window, meowing to get out.
I have not slept in 32 hours,
And I still don't know what I'm so scared about.
Across the street, there's a dog stuck out on the balcony.
You can see from here she isn't getting very far.
And I am eating ice cream from the box.
Now there's chocolate on my guitar.

I am so brain damaged when it comes to this-
A blind spot in my mind.
I received your letter, and I will answer,
"A little scared, but I'm doing fine."
You were such a beautiful boy, and I let you down.

You were raised with faith that only hurt you-
That now you can't think of God.
Weak, sick, and wheezing, you were laid to bed and prayed to sleep.
Well I'm here and I'm trying - at least I give myself that.
But I'll talk so vague, I'll drive myself crazy.
The details are here - make no mistakes.
There's a lump under this rug everyone sees but me.

And when I kissed you it was like prickles and stars,
And I held your shoulder as we walked outside,
And your hair was so short, and I broke your heart.
I did not know what it means to toy
With such a beautiful boy - yes, I let you down.

Lock the door, hiding behind steam-
Stare at the wall - the water will fall off your back,
And when I cried you held me,
And when I shook you held me.
I could sit here for hours and expound
On this beautiful boy that I let down.

There I said it well it seemed to slip out,
As if I didn't feel quite bad enough.
Such a beautiful boy.

The Bus Song
From outside the bus, the ground is thawing.
It reminds me of Iowa, with you driving.
I stepped out of the car to pee.
I walked down to the stream in full view of the highway.

Oh, I am in love here.

I did not want to watch Mrs. Doubtfire,
But I chose to board this bus.
That was a risk I chose to accept.
It could have been much worse.
It could have been Forest Gump.

Oh, I am in love here.

There is something so wrong with this.
Like I'm up on an elephant's back.
Like an eighty-mile-per-hour safari.
At the rest stop, busses of all brands
Stop here in North Haven Connecticut.
A solitary Roy Rogers-
The line from the ladies room is appalling, of course.
What kind of deal have these bus lines struck
With this tiny junk joint, flanked by an empty lot?

Oh, I am in love here.

Dinosaur
A half Jew once said to his half Indian friend,
“You know we both drink too much.
We’ve both lost our cultures.
We’ve both lost our lands.
Tell me what to do with our lives.”

We’re walking landmarks of our histories,
But sadly not much more.
And lately I’ve started feeling like a dinosaur.

Playing on the train tracks, wondering how to get back,
Contemplating the ignorance of their fellow Americans,
Is there a monster lying in the bushes over there?
Under the full moon as the trains roared by.

And those trains went on like ages,
Though neither knew where they were headed for,
Or if one of those cars had ever felt like a dinosaur.

And he said, “Willow, please tell me now,
I have to get away somehow.
And though I’m having the time of my life,
I’ve got these aches inside.”
And she said, “We’ll never find our fortunes here on these tracks.
I think it’s about time we headed on back.”
So carrying their blankets,
Picking up the bottle,
They got on their feet and went home.

But upon their return, things had not changed.
They were quite like they were before.
Someone was still telling stories to unimpressed ears,
And they said, “Someone's song has yet to change.”

And so they lived to tell the tale.
‘Though it had been done before.
And they realized it’s obsolete to call yourself a dinosaur.

How did I get There?
When I got home, I came upstairs,
When I got home, I came upstairs,
But I forgot to take a look.
Now I remember, I remember,
How did I get there?

Did I leave something behind?
Lately I've been treating myself Much too unkind.

If I had tried to keep you
Locked up inside,
If so, then how did I get there?
Within my sight, within my gaze,
There's nowhere left
For me these days.
Ain't that sad?

Could It be more than
I'd bargained for?
Let's keep this a secret,
Locked behind closed doors.

Did you catch me unawares?
Well you're probably thinking,
How did I get there?

Now I feel I remember
Broken glass everywhere
I think it was December
But I've lost track.
Now, how did I get there?

I-40 at Night
I remember Oklahoma dark
Hot dry air and ice cream
Why are there no other memories?
Night travels are easily forgotten,
Except for patched oasises
Of service stations and cities.

The Last Song
This is the last song that I'll write about you.
I have resolved to work this one through.
And to try to diffuse our lingering issues.
And not give up and write another sad and angry song.

This is the last song that I'll write about you.
The worst I could say was it was my fault, too.
Like in North Dakota, when we fought all night.
And I vowed to turn around or board a Greyhound
From Fargo while you drove on.

You've been the "You" in so many songs,
I could go on.
I'm embarrassed to shout out
What these songs have all been about.
I guess I'm afraid to let everyone know
That you've affected me so.

This is the last song that I'll write about you.
I was standing below your window.
I was unaware you were with someone up there.
I called your name.
I threw rocks at the window.
Did you know?

The Long Drive
The long drive there is always the better part.
There's the road, there's getting away,
The wind is behind you.
Even at night, the tense joy
Glues us to our seats.
The trip has just started.
The earth moves with us.
Every mile you cross, you conquer for yourself.
Five hundred miles
All for you.

It's over now,
And weakened, here I stand.
The fighting is gone, but the anger is still there.
I know love makes you blind,
But you won't even hear me.
I get that awful feeling,
Like someone died.
It's embarrassing I have to pretend.
I doubt you'd notice if you locked me out
Or let me in.

I don't want to mourn,
But I try not to deny it.
It's fine.
The trick is not to show pain.
But for once this stifling overbearance
Is not an unwanted show of strength,
But merely an attempt to save face.

The long drive home feels like retreat.
Trying to justify myself,
Strapped in to my seat.
And the greatest joy in the world
Is standing there at sunrise
After spending hours alone with night.
This is where I am.
I was all that I could be.
And I am not sorry.
Not sorry.

Never Enough Time
I keep trying to clean my room.
There's a coffee cup in my underwear drawer
And a pile of bills that will go unpaid
And pieces of us scattered underneath the bed.

We drove out to the coast last weekend,
Saw the sunset from the lip of the ocean,
And the sky turned dark before our eyes

There is a marketplace near your home where
Fresh cheeses and meats are sold at the corner store.
I can see huge crowds outside the Athens Café,
And you're walking past them on your way home.

But the subway won't get you closer to me
As you make your way to Astoria from the city.

Buy your ticket to the city, get on the bus
Count the miles between the two of us.
All of this and here we find
Too much space and never enough time.

After my coat has been thrown on the floor
And the cat is scratching at the door,
I will stay up late and wait for your call
And stare at a picture of us taped to the wall.

Let's drive out to the coast next weekend.
We'll see the sunset from the lip of the ocean
And watch the sky turn dark before our eyes.

Never Growing Up
Just 'bout every spring these rivers flood.
They bring down a winter's worth of snow
And a thousand tons of mud.
You don't leave town.
With the mud this deep, your wheels just spin around.

And I only notice when I'm tired
That whenever things get rough, I hide.
I suppose that never growing up
Is like a kind of suicide.

There is nothing much to do in this town.
Except get drunk and get in my truck
And just drive around.
I've been driving in circles for so many damn years.
Just a little bit longer, then I'm out of here.

And I only notice when I'm tired
That whenever things get rough, I hide.
I suppose that never growing up
Is like a kind of suicide.

And I've watched my bridges burn-
My life go by with hardly a word.
And I know inside, I can't stay here.
I will get out, exactly when is not so clear.

Still I don't leave town.
With the mud this deep, my wheels just spin around.

And I only notice when I'm tired
That whenever things get rough, I hide.
I suppose that never growing up
Is like a kind of suicide.

Not Trying to be Nice Anymore
I hate the people
Whose hugs and smiles
Carry the power of amnesia.
I could have sworn I didn't care.
Just before you're
Thrown to the ground,
The tracks pick you up
With a smile or a promise
I thought I had better things to do With my time than get upset
Or forget that I'm not trying
To be nice anymore.

This poetry is killing me.
It's like you just figured out
How to shout.
Stop making up connections.
We all write bad poems,
Then we edit them out.

No, I'm not trying
To be nice anymore.
Things have gone too far for that.
I suppose you're being honest,
So harsh yet so true.
But God forbid I try to start
With what I think of you.

I hate the people
Whose hugs and smiles
Carry the power of amnesia.
I could have sworn I didn't care.
Just look around at the rest of us.
Can't you see
That the ties have been cut?
Well yes, you think and argue well,
But besides that,
What have you got?

Well I'm sorry if you're suffering,
But now you know how we all felt.
I'm sorry if I hurt you still.
This drama has got to stop.
If I have to jump ship, I will.

No, I'm not trying
To be nice anymore.

On D-Day
On D-Day, I was in Rome.
I walked through narrow streets to the Vatican.
And I thanked the Pope
That I was there and not in Normandy.

Village by village, patiently
A slow, bloody ride up from Sicily.
And all roads lead to Rome, I guess.
But there's no time to dwell on the emptiness.

And when I was nineteen,
My hair turned as white as the cloud over Tripoli.
There at night, in the face of the war,
I exhaled in my sleeping bag to keep warm.

Looking back, I was one of the lucky ones,
Checking my boots by morning for scorpions.
And all roads lead to Rome, I guess.
But there's no time to dwell on the emptiness.

Be careful what you wish.
I hated a man - a sergeant from Baltimore.
I wished that his ship would sink,
And torpedoed it was, ten miles of Gibraltar.

And I felt guilty with a little tinge of fear
With he in the deep and I still here,
But my roads led to Rome, I guess.
And there's no time to dwell on the emptiness.

On D-Day, I was in Rome.
I walked through narrow streets to the Vatican.
And on the way back, they bombed us again.

Village by village, patiently
A slow, bloody ride up from Sicily.
And all roads lead to Rome, I guess.
But there's no time to dwell on the emptiness.

Powerball
Driving, everybody woke up early
This morning, and drove across the border
For the Powerball.
They abandoned their cars
After waiting in parked traffic for hours,
And made the five mile walk
To the service stop and their shot at the jackpot.

Standing in line 'till mid-afternoon,
Outside convenience stores and gas stations,
Blocking the streets -
The people of Greenwich were beside themselves,
They said "This will not happen again."
But the visitors from the city said,
"Our dreams will all come true,
And when we win the big money,
We will live here, too."

Do you believe?
Try to get some sleep.
Please don't leave me here.

I feel like it's a long shot
To jump back in so soon
After being burned -
After giving up my heart
And having nothing in return.
Well, I have not played the Powerball game,
But I have hope for us,
Just the same.

Do you believe?
Try to get some sleep.
Please don't leave me here.

Sane
I feel like I'm slipping.
I can't get up in the morning.
I put two thousand miles on the engine.
On the way home, I thought I would mention
That I have always felt this-
That living is hard - just to get up.
It doesn't mean that I want to end it.
It just means that I think I'm crazy,

But I'll try not to fall
If you keep telling me these things.
Promise me, promise me I will stay sane.

There is an ugly bridge.
These steel girders, corroded and horrendous,
Rusting and dangerous-
I have only crossed it once.
I would think of my grandfather-
How he tried other ways before he jumped off.
My father said he cried when he heard,

But I'll try not to fall
If you keep telling me these things.
Promise me, promise me I will stay sane.

I am mad at everyone.
I don't know why, maybe 'cause
Everyone seems so okay.
There are things I never noticed
Before I stared to admit this.

There was something in the background.
I left on the radio.
Lying on the floor,
I thought I heard your voice through the static.

I'll try not to fall
If you keep telling me these things.
Promise me, promise me I will stay sane.

Small Dark Room
In the small dark room,
With winter four inches away,
We kept warm.

Carefully peeking through the blinds,
Watching dark figures we knew walk by,
In this room it felt
As if we'd left our bodies behind
And looked out at this world from another,
Invisible, untouchable.

When the lights came on,
It was just my room again.
You said you needed it to be that way.
Something that could go away at the flick of a switch,
You needed it that way.

For a while before light and dark began to melt,
This room kept us safe.
Without and within.

In the small dark room,
With winter four inches away,
We kept warm.

Smash the Car
Smash the car
Through the door.
Broken glass
On the floor.
A rock thrown through
The rear window.
They took my socks
So now you know

I parked the car
By the piers at night
With no one home
And no streetlight.
I took the plastic bag.
I taped it into place
And drove the way home
With tears in my face.

And as I drove,
I thought it through-
How your window
Was once smashed, too.
It never worked
The same again.
A bad metaphor
For how I've been.

It's been awful
With you away.
Still I won't call
And have nothing nice to say.
You broke my heart.
You just let go.
I'd tell you again,
But you still won't know.

Over time,
We've both changed,
Especially me.
But I still recall
Driving out in the beautiful country.

Smash the car
Through the door.
I have been here before.
We are both in my parent's car
Stopped by the road,
Looking up at the stars.

I left the door open,
And sat while it chimed.
We just laughed and laughed,
And sang along in time.
Halfway to Las Vegas
And the whole world behind.
And the whole world behind.

Song For a Friend
I’m writing a song for a friend
A song for a friend who’s gone
And I thought that I knew everything about life,
But I was wrong.

There’s something about the timing of this
Ten days later, and I’m in such a mess
And all I can find in my heart is this apathy.

Our lives go on,
And still I don’t understand it,
How I put my faith in the pain that I feel,
and the wounds I’ve received,
I expect them to heal.
And I find myself, trying to explain
This pain.

Span of Attention
Why can't I get into a car without crashing it?
Why can't I throw pebbles without a clue?
The glass sprays out in front of the hood.
I was never meant to drive a car.
My span of attention can't last
A half hour drive to the airport.

Anger in his face,
You were wearing green,
His waist a darker shade.
Gone so quickly it frightens me more
Than had he stayed.
Telling me is a sign of truth,
A view inside through time
Back through the mirror,
At the thorns still stuck in your side.

Everything's a mess.
I can try and sound cute
And walk away in shame.
Well I'd hoped to see you.
When you are not here,
These walls are not the same.

Stand Your Ground
Bang my head on the wall,
I guess it wasn't my place at all.
It's a ripple - it's a wave,
I dare not call out by name.
It's a glow so dull,
It probably seems the same.
Still it seems so hard to give up what you just found.
The moment's gone,
And you still will stand your ground.

Don't say another word.
The conversation's become much too blurred.
I try to talk to you,
But instead we start a fight,
Like there's a contest to decide
Who's had a better night.
It's a turning point.
No, I don't really think so.
I'm sitting on my frustrations.
That's why I'm the one who's gonna blow.

All our hang-ups,
With these breakups,
Seem more to you than me.
I'm an asshole,
Just to think that's what I could be.
As if it didn't matter-
It couldn't penetrate my skin-so-thick.
The patience was lacking,
It was all stop and go.
Still you got me good.
I thought I'd just let you know.

Bang my head on the wall,
I guess it wasn't my place at all.
Still it seems so hard to give up what you just found.
The moment's gone,
And you still will stand your ground.

View From Your Window
Looking our your window at the air,
I'm on your bed.
A note in the distance, or was it wind, or was it you
Or was it my head?

For once the clanking of the radiator
Was beautiful to me,
And the bright lights across the street
Is the last thing that I can see.

That's my worst fear - to repeat myself.
A hope of originality against a sea of repetition
And older tones.

The bursts of pent up anger I try so hard to fight,
Well there's a pain inside of me
That came out like a well last night

I'll try to savor every second,
Make every moment magic,
Turn the uneven sky into a masterpiece.
And it's not even March,
But already I'm mourning
The loss of the view from your window.
I'll remember it with lightning.
Maybe it's snowing, or maybe the air is clean

Thirty second conversation leads to a dream
I had last night - the wonders of modern science,
Or maybe it was those dirty little secrets that
Came out in a smoke-filled room two hours later

Or maybe it was the secret that I still have not told
I should have grabbed on to this
Before we both grew old.

Viola
Viola, I swear I miss you.
You were the wisest girl I knew.
Like when you told me of Katrina,
How she rose and cried, "Hallelujah."
Viola, Viola.

I once heard Chester speak.
He said he saw you dancing on the stage.
He told me that, despite your years,
Your style had not changed with age.
I drowned myself tonight in sangria
Made with sliced up fruit and cheap marsala.
Viola, Viola.

I tried to remember a dream I had with you.
We were trying to swim across the ocean in the black of night.
There were lightning storms outside of Panama
Before we reached the shores of Angola.
Viola, Viola.

Viola, I swear I miss you.

Your Call
This is your call.
We both must have grown a little too tall.
Who'd have thought, after all this time,
It would come to this?
If my mind isn't here with you now,
I'm not sure where it is.

This is your call.
All I can do is talk and sound like a fool.
Always the view behind the glass,
This was always someone else.
But never did I think that so soon,
I'd find myself there.

No one.
Nowhere.

Tonight I looked for your car.
To make sure, I checked your machine.
And whether or not things will change
Remains to be seen.
I am sick and tired.
I suppose you won't be happy either way.
But I've told you where I stand.
You can take the plunge
Or just watch me turn to water and flood away.

This is your call.
This was not your place at all.

14 Days
It seems like I've been sleeping again.
The words I heard meant so little back then.
In these fourteen days, I've started to come around,
But I can't help but hear this sound.

The borders melt; the landscapes fall behind.
The caffeine tries to jump-start our weary minds.
Mountain sides, canyon walls, the nation of the Navajo-
The time has come to let these things go.

The snow in Pennsylvania hid the trucks on both our sides.
The ice in Colorado almost threw us off the edge.
I wish I could have seen the road through the sandstorm in Utah.
In California I felt the earth move around me,
And I'm still shaking.

A moments rest, then I'm up and alive.
The more I sleep, the longer I drive.
And when we found the beast, twenty miles wide,
I kept my hands, but lost my pride.
If all my fears were calmed, beyond the shadow of doubt,
Why do I feel that I have to shout?