Plush snakes and social ladders
Everyone and their girlfriends were in the house.
The place that never sleeps. The race around the stepped track of reload-and-fire, kisses and hugs, shoes and cigarettes. Calls to leave, doors to slam, wide-eyed smiles of eventual inebriation.
Oh, I'm here, but you'll be there. I'll come back when you leave.
Close their bedroom door, you can take the couch. Let us depart.
Hello, sir. I've wondered about you since the minute I saw your back. And it wasn't a waste, so I hope you've saved my image from the scandalous hounds of time.
Dancing in the basement
of hopeful alt-rock boys
we all froze and shouted 'hey!'
Questionable content of the night: "for several reasons."
(My dearest friend-- you almost let loose your protective betrayal).
Is it all real? Them, and us?
Are they putting me on hold?
The bridges we build-- is there a time bomb? Isn't it fake to do it this way?
The vistas, the views, the axon projections.
Your beautiful woman, your powerful style,
the way I wish my friends--
your friends--
knew that I knew you.
All of the worlds I have audited
I almost want
to have begun in yours.
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