Near-Miss.

Slowing on the shoulder,
After a near-miss jump-start.
Blood pumping and eyes wide
Like jumper cables to the heart.

Eight wheels drawn together,
In a moment, and then it's done.
Of the millions of moments packed into life,
A thousand possibilities, crammed into one.

Ghosts on a see saw,
Two spectres on a ride.
Up and down, over and over,
Into the forefront of my mind.

Two stories on a page,
With a very different end.
One ghost to fade away,
A second ghost to rise again.

Every day's spent moving forward,
And tiptoe-ing on the line.
The scene slows and the car stops,
And everybody's fine.

Conductor Blues.

I wasn't originally going to post this one, since it doesn't read well on the page... or at least not as well as I would like it to. I wrote this with a melody in mind, and it only really resonates well when spoken (which I don't really do much). I was planning on being done with a bunch of pieces I've been working on, but they're taking longer than expected, so I'm posting this in the meantime.

Conductor Blues.

You're born at a station,
Then put on a curved track.
And I guess the real test is
If you can find your way back.
Every step is a corner,
And every step back's a corner, too.
So every time you come around,
The same thing seems like something new.

You know it only gets murky,
Trying to find some grand scheme.
But you've got to keep moving,
There isn't time enough to dream.
We all know the same amount of nothing,
Nothing to get down, nothing to tell.
And there's nothing to draw from,
No matter how deep the well.

There's dust in the shower head,
Dust in your trail and dust in your teeth.
You lurch toward the horizon,
Hoping somewhere, somehow, there's some relief.
Your watch is busted,
But the hands still point somewhere..
But they don't tell you how far to go
Or how to stop when you get there.

Had You Known.

I could lead you through my memory
To stumble on the scene.
But it wouldn't help you very much
To show you what I mean.

It wouldn't have to be this way,
You wouldn't have to take me to task.
And we wouldn't have to be alone,
And you wouldn't even have to ask.
And it wouldn't have been the same
Had you known.

The infraction was intangible,
In fact, it never even occurred.
I'm as likely to take another mate,
As you're to take me for my word.

You can seethe and sigh and tap your feet
Like I'm not telling the truth.
And dissect phrasing, body language and tone
Trying to find some damning proof
And you'd have bit your tongue to save some face,
Had you known.

The numbers on the clock set in your mind,
Were dwindling all the same.
And the betrayal that you've conjured up
Just met your fuse like a hotter flame.

It seems to signify when I deny
That each passing word is a bigger lie.
That all fits into one big goodbye...

And I've never seen someone so thrown.
But your countdown would have only been delayed,
Had you known.

Out Of Season.

I wrote this one in December, so it doesn't quite reflect the current season. I have four other pieces that I've been wanting to post (some pretty different things), but none of them are ready yet, so here goes...

Walking Into Winter.

Walking into winter,
Holding the last breath of warmth,
For the flowers to bloom
In an artificial June.

It's Frosty the Snowman,
I'm a spraycan springtime.
The strongest of sprays
For the shortest of days.

Walking out of Autumn
With a coat that's too light,
But I'll be warm
Through those cold cottonstorms.