Talking by her car — that night
our intuition brought us together —
I never wanted to leave.
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In the Delaware of my mind.
I stand here blind
With tears in my eyes
Surrounded by the life
I’ve always dreamed
Thinking of you there
Alone and in fear
Knowing no one’s called in weeks
Except myself and another
Who I hope like I
Told you you’re loved
And have done no wrong
Like I’ve too
So often thought
Living year to year like a vagabond
Drifting through the mud of life
It’s hard but man it’ll be alright
Look West I’m here in the dead of night
Standing by this olive tree
In California I no longer dream
Living mine the best I can
Drinking with you
Hand in hand, walking I can see
The two of us, then cracking crabs
Pig Beaches on parade
Just two lost souls, now growing old
What’s left is yours to keep
For nothing lost is truly gone
Now Lady Garth I see her too
In the Delaware of my mind.
Through the air vents of my room
I’ve known a many artist in my day, say
Today old friend you come to mind
And how for a short time, your voice divine
Scratchy and old, though, you and I know
Age is just a number and it’s you who’d show
Me this: Dear, Gavin Heron Vante
Who needed a place to rest his weary head
For the night I offered you some bread
Where that night you had said, Ah man!
I haven’t seen this show in years, mind if I watch
Married with Children, Amen! Amen!
Then later I’d record you playing all the chords
I always had wish I could, watching your fingers
Slide and swoop through Sloop John B
I tried to sing harmonies but who was I kidding
Aloof in my eagerness to know everything and all
You had to offer and more, more, more I cried
Singing, drinking in the night like two old friends
Because we were in fact just two ageless nobodies
In the effortless night of somebodies
Giving me your time, cradling my wine
Looking through old photo’s now
I can still feel your spirit sing softly through
The air vents of my room
The next morning of course, saying farewell
Dropping you at Austin’s Coffee
Collecting your bicycle and taking the trash out for a buck
Needing my fix of early morning talkie
That I’m sure no one ever really gave a hoot about —
Now I hear you’re out of the Coma
That took you too soon like a phantom in the night
You were right when you told me
To take it easy man, oh man, Gavin Heron Van
Where there is no plan there in lies the plan
I now know the meaning of that age old saying
Those were the days, good sir, I give my praise
Sincerely,
Dave
P.S. There’s a place for you here, always
Manhattan’s in the Village
You know what they say, don’t yuh?
Can’t live with em, can’t live without em
But don’t get me twisted, I’m not talking about women
though the skin beneath my tongue’s still sore
my heart’s still heavy and well
there’s nothing quite like seeing her smile come morning
but anyway like I was saying to this jug of doom
in the evening gloom where I choose not one but two
and then two more to boot because, well, hell
who am I kidding? Nobody but the moon this evening
cause it’s this bitter sweet feeling
the kind you feel deep down in the rumbling, stumbling night
where it all gets so far gone, where nothing meaningful is born
where it all makes some sort of convoluted sense
and alas, once again I am but the floorboards dull creak
where I am like the riverbed flowing calmly and discrete
where life is but a dream and I am dreaming once again
of you dear friend, rustling like the leaves at my front door.
Oh dear friend, how I long to walk the beach again.
How I long to hear your sick, silly, sweet voice again
like those long ago up all Friday nights of old
all those Brooklyn winter blue’s and yellow streetlights
guiding us home, or at least to Crown Fried Chicken where
like two youthful bums we’d scavenge our pockets for change
enough to buy a couple chicken wings, coke, and pint
enough to settle the bone, cold, sidewalk snow till home
where we’d fall arm and arm up stairs
to that old wood, smoke filled, railroad apartment you’d call Grove.
And though I don’t often pray, in my own little way
I do for you now as I did then, driving back to my Long Island apartment.
I pray this little song of self, this little song of you, this small token of my appreciation
for your boundless soul and effortless style and class.
I ate too much cheese, I’d shout while holding a kitchen knife to my throat!
Where in a Polaroid our youth is kept,
where so many nights while you slept I wept,
where you’d give me your bed for a smile,
where I’d talk with Forest about everything and nothing for a while,
long enough not to feel alone in that maddening, crazy New York glow.
So I write this little poem, not enough but enough to show you
I’m still listening through the terror behind the walls.
Dear friend,
How are you?
I can’t live with you, but hell, I can’t live without you.
Manhattan’s in the Village
God knows we never had the scratch, aligned
I feel inclined to take this time and offer you my best
impression not impressed?
CALL ME SPIDER! CALL ME SPIDER!
I just had to get these salami’s off my back.
I just had to sing this short praise of you Mac.
Love’s the only cure.
I don’t wish to have the answers
for any questions of concern
just know that I am working
my hardest in reverse
to tame the wild memories
once thought of as a curse
those now that are a blessing
from the backseat of a hearse,
cause friendship it has shown me
like the calm hand of a nurse
the answers to the questions
where love’s the only cure.
I’m sorry my friend.
I wanted to help you
but hurt you instead.
The least I can say is
I’m sorry my friend.
The most I can do is
tell you I’m here,
no matter the distance
though waters aren’t clear,
it’s times like these—
a balloon in the air—
to let yourself go completely
and live not in fear.
You’re worth more than you know
I know this my friend
so follow your heart, and
try to understand.
I wanted to help you
but hurt you instead.
The least I can say is
I’m sorry my friend.
Whiskey Shakes (song for Josh)
Come on my friend.
It’s time to go.
Where we’re going.
We don’t need roads.
Bring two cups of tea.
Bring your rabbit too.
I’ve got the whiskey shakes.
I think a quart will do.
I hear the grass is green.
Leave your blues at home.
On the other side.
Of this rabbit hole.
I’ve got the whiskey shakes.
I’m paranoid as hell.
You know I don’t take pills.
But this time oh well.
Grey hours of day
What’s there left to say
on days like today
Where everything stops
the light just turns grey
The moon and the mind
become one entwined
with fear as bright as the stars
So come with me now
still I have my doubts
But isn’t it fun
sometimes to run
Where no one can see
just listen to me
for once I’ve got nothing to say
It’s all just
too much to take
On days as grey as today
Where no one
gets what they want
they all just walk in the park
Ain’t it better here in the dark?
There’s a place and a time
in the back of my mind
where you and I hide
when you’re so inclined
It’s a place where the grey
hours of day, commit not to say anything.
So come with me there
forget all your fears
Knock-knock orange you glad
I’ve got the blues bad
Just stay with me now
and let’s talk about
anything other than this
These days I don’t think I’ll miss.
Like puppetry two marionette
I took her to this art event
She took me to her motel bed
Like puppetry two marionette
We tangled up our strings
Her eyes were wide like Eleanor
Rigby she was fiction for
The life I’d led a year before
I hadn’t slept a wink
It’s comical how looks predict
The ludicrous and obvious
By circumstance we came to this
Offering by the sea
Her hair jet black like ravens beak
The padding of her size 6 feet
Lenore her name I said quite meek
This time then nevermore
It’s lyrical how time can tell
Who’s heaven sent and living hell
An angel with a broken bell
Knows liberation’s free
Sometimes I think coincidence
Common sense and saying yes
Are infinite never in jest
Like cherry blossoms we
Sell ourselves a dollar short
Make amends and then spring forth
Pink petals fall on the seashore
There’s no telling what could be
An accident a sign from God
A work of faith handshake or nod
They’re simply an illusion on
The pleasure box we see
The message spoke ten times before
By Poe and his dear loved Lenore
Like love’s the end all message for
Both poetry and speech
So I took her to the airline that
Disagreed with both our backs
I mean this with no disrespect
It’s how some people meet
We never spoke another word
Jumped back into the universe
I came to grips was late for work
And landed on my feet
The game is rigged the money’s spent
If I stay in bed too long
dreaming of the times gone by
There must be something wrong
like not knowing what is right
If I get up and get gone
still daydreaming in the morning light
There must be something wrong
because all I see is black and white
Out there on the road
passing frowns can’t weigh me down
Like songs from days of old
freewheeling there’s no time to tell
She’s been reaching for the sun
did all I could to take her there
Must be doing something wrong
like two children we’re still unprepared
To walk
on our own
As state signs blur
on the road
Yet all this time
we have grown
There’s still this
phantom partner feeling
though we’re on our own.
When you go there’s still coming back
don’t be extreme like who needs that?
There must be something wrong
for me to feel like this and that
She was going either way
it didn’t matter if I saved the day
There must be something wrong
for me to think or feel this pain
Standing in the setting sun
which blinds me now casts shadows on
Reflections on the windowpane
my doppelgänger’s staring back at me
If looks could kill I’d live
my malice spite all gibberish
God knows if I could commit
I’d probably muck it up like a little kid
Whose ball
hits the rim
It bounces far
time and again
The game is rigged
the money’s spent
Yet there’s this
faint glimmer of hope
like there’s a chance to win.
Words Of An Average White Male 