There are things you can yearn to do

like play a guitar in steady time wind

and insert sound into pure word and sprawl audio on paper.

Some things are too advanced.

Some things are cancelled out.

Sometimes it doesn’t get better than this.

 

I wish I could fall in love with a woman named Jane once.

I wish to struggle to pay rent and throw bottles at a wall.

I wish she’d smack me across the face and apologize with trembling knuckles yet steady action.

I wish I could meet an Ilene at the bar and have her tell me there are two types of women,

the ones who hunt and the ones who hurt,

and I’ll ask if there’s a gray and she’ll say it’s her last name.

 

I’ve been working on myself.

I wish they’d say it all and spare only little breath to breathe only after voice is P.O’d.

I’d get used to it.

I’ve a box and reason.

 

I wish I could take a walk alone after a hospital trip

and contemplate morality the way only They can.

 

I wish I could get married

and divorce

and marry again

to see just how Light works,

to play it differently than just in bedroom blurs between lash and lid.

 

I wish I could meet a saxophonist on the street

who teaches me to grow a third lung and rid of my breasts for a dime,

whose name is Stefan but pronounced Steven.

 

What a trip this would all be.

 

I wish I could meet a woman.

 

I wish I could keep this woman.

I hope I can be the only man she’ll ever need and forget she ever rode a pelvis in the A.M. without having to clear her memory.

My chest would be so kind.

 

My chest is partly kind,

impartial to me only

 

There are things you can yearn to do

like rip your skin off to feel the breeze

or insert sound into pure bone and sprawl audio across backsides.

Some things are too advanced.

Some things are cancelled out.

Sometimes it doesn’t get better than this.

 

Oh, life doesn’t get better than this.