twoheadedboy
09-23-2010, 07:42 PM
fields #1
There is grey in the sky today;
fresh fruit and a sweet corn stand,
but I’m still afraid that
I’ll be alone when it starts to rain.
The woman at the stand is pretty,
but not what I expected,
not what I would think
a woman looks like
who works in a sweet corn stand
in the middle of a parking lot.
She is just selling something to me,
how am I supposed to know if her smile is
at me or my money,
at my heart or at my handsome sensibilities.
“It’s going to rain,” I want to say
you should cover up your tattoos,
they might fade away
might fall off and decay.
I know that the monkey hanging around your arm with a banana in it’s grasp isn’t going to fade away because of some rain. It will take years of sun and exposure and then it will still be there, only less.
I wish that the rain could wash away the streets and your silly corn stand
to leave you and me alone.
I would say jokingly
“Hey, where is the fresh fruit supposed to be?”
But it never rains.
The sky just stays grey,
and you keep selling corn,
and I keep a newspaper over my head just in-case.
fields #2
There is grey in the sky today
and with a quake in my bones
and a hung low feeling in my chest,
I wonder why I agreed to this.
We are not lovers or accomplices.
Nor are we secret buddies, whose
friendship we don’t want someone to see;
but we are two people who loved each other.
It is 3 o’clock now and you’re late;
just like a man to keep me waiting
to keep me down and to flood me with
sweet talk when I get mad.
We meet at an abandoned house
in a field with old corn stalks
rising up through the dirt and debris;
they’ve got their yellow but not their vitality.
You say that you’ve never felt this way
and I can’t help but feel used
can’t help but feel dirty.
Like a patch sewn into some bikers jacket.
I would read: Come here all who are weary, take the life that’s inside of me.
I think I heard that it might rain
today and not tomorrow,
or tomorrow and not today
I honestly can’t remember.
I really hope that it doesn’t
because I’ve got my purse with me
and I’ve got nothing to protect me.
Well there’s you but you don’t do much.
fields #3
There is grey in the sky today.
When you were 5 you asked
where the sky came from
and I said that I didn’t know
maybe you should find out for the rest of us.
Then when you were 9 you said
you figured it out and that God used
mirrors and a system of pulleys to
hoist it into place on the top of the world.
Your landlord said that you never left the building
never left even to shop for groceries
but only to check the mail
and look for letters from God.
Me and your father had corn on the cob
last week and I almost died laughing
when I remembered how amazing you thought
it was when you learned how popcorn was made.
You didn’t stop talking about it for a whole week afterwards.
But now you’re hanging on a piece of wood
with roots for feet and branches for hair.
They said it was gonna rain but I don’t
care, I just want you and not the tree.
There is grey in the sky today;
fresh fruit and a sweet corn stand,
but I’m still afraid that
I’ll be alone when it starts to rain.
The woman at the stand is pretty,
but not what I expected,
not what I would think
a woman looks like
who works in a sweet corn stand
in the middle of a parking lot.
She is just selling something to me,
how am I supposed to know if her smile is
at me or my money,
at my heart or at my handsome sensibilities.
“It’s going to rain,” I want to say
you should cover up your tattoos,
they might fade away
might fall off and decay.
I know that the monkey hanging around your arm with a banana in it’s grasp isn’t going to fade away because of some rain. It will take years of sun and exposure and then it will still be there, only less.
I wish that the rain could wash away the streets and your silly corn stand
to leave you and me alone.
I would say jokingly
“Hey, where is the fresh fruit supposed to be?”
But it never rains.
The sky just stays grey,
and you keep selling corn,
and I keep a newspaper over my head just in-case.
fields #2
There is grey in the sky today
and with a quake in my bones
and a hung low feeling in my chest,
I wonder why I agreed to this.
We are not lovers or accomplices.
Nor are we secret buddies, whose
friendship we don’t want someone to see;
but we are two people who loved each other.
It is 3 o’clock now and you’re late;
just like a man to keep me waiting
to keep me down and to flood me with
sweet talk when I get mad.
We meet at an abandoned house
in a field with old corn stalks
rising up through the dirt and debris;
they’ve got their yellow but not their vitality.
You say that you’ve never felt this way
and I can’t help but feel used
can’t help but feel dirty.
Like a patch sewn into some bikers jacket.
I would read: Come here all who are weary, take the life that’s inside of me.
I think I heard that it might rain
today and not tomorrow,
or tomorrow and not today
I honestly can’t remember.
I really hope that it doesn’t
because I’ve got my purse with me
and I’ve got nothing to protect me.
Well there’s you but you don’t do much.
fields #3
There is grey in the sky today.
When you were 5 you asked
where the sky came from
and I said that I didn’t know
maybe you should find out for the rest of us.
Then when you were 9 you said
you figured it out and that God used
mirrors and a system of pulleys to
hoist it into place on the top of the world.
Your landlord said that you never left the building
never left even to shop for groceries
but only to check the mail
and look for letters from God.
Me and your father had corn on the cob
last week and I almost died laughing
when I remembered how amazing you thought
it was when you learned how popcorn was made.
You didn’t stop talking about it for a whole week afterwards.
But now you’re hanging on a piece of wood
with roots for feet and branches for hair.
They said it was gonna rain but I don’t
care, I just want you and not the tree.