Something about Summer.

sent me reeling,
into words, more words,
as I tried to put
a finger on that feeling.

. . .

Lies. but not all of them.

Maybe you already knew
Maybe you haven't a clue
either way, it's true.
I confess I do. I lie.

If any comfort,
It's not just you
keeping you company,
I lie to myself too.

. . .

Aren't we?

The Universe made us.
All its children.
then became indifferent.
All just bastards.
Frankenstein's monsters
running around in chaos,
trying to convince ourselves,
otherwise.

. . .

Communication Gaps and Rude Humans.

Life came to a standstill,

when there was a rumor at the mill,

about a parrot at the zoo,

which could not only talk, but talk back too.

People went in droves, to see

with own eyes, truth to the story.

Stood around the cage they asked,

in chorus, What's your name?

It only asked right back, 

What's your name?

Disappointed, they left.

Bereft, The bird idly thought,

of communication gaps and rude humans.

. . .

One Ticket Traveler.

If I got off here in the middle,
at some rusty old station,
The train would still go on,
to find its destination.

For, I'm just a one ticket traveler,
Status, Confirmed;
From Station;
To Station;

Going along laid out paths,
to mapped out places,Where,
countless souls have gone before,
countless more will follow after.

One ticket travelers, like me,
have got no thrill.
They've seen this tale unfold,
they know the drill.
Yet, for weary cues they wait,
watchful still.

Like they don't already know
the end of the story
is sealed in bold
right in their itinerary.

May be Frost had it right all along.
I've just been travelling wrong.

If I got off here in the middle,
at some rusty old station,
The train would still go on,
to find its destination.

For I, no more a one ticket traveler,
can only find by myself,
if there is, for me,
waiting in the woods,

A road, not yet taken.

. . .

When I see you.

By no means,
does my heart skip a beat,
when I see you.
As a matter of fact,
It picks up a beat or two
and thumps hard, as if trying,
to break out of my chest
and tell you first hand,
All the things I won't.

. . .

The last time.

The last time I lied,
was because I didn't want to get out of bed.

The last time I cried,
was watching The Incredible Hulk.

The last time I laughed,
was a particularly bad knock knock joke.

The last time I saw you,
there were butterflies inside my chest.

. . .