It’s a waltz

a breezy dance on a patio

of some silent movie

queen of a dinosaur

with milk that soured

long ago

dancing with dreams

and ghost

and nighttime fantasies

filled with nostalgic

memories of lives

I never lived

The weddings

and births

the Wednesdays

and blasphemous living

Segregated and separated

in the shadows of the killing moon

mocking the surrogate of rebellion

as the dean of the silver screen

underlining the lining

while defining cool

a snicker as a store front

to an arson of emotion

silver cars line the coast

and they drive carefully

in the howl of the wind

the jet stream screams

you have got it all wrong

and they drive on

to destinations

and gas stations

the new year

of recurring nightmares

vowing never to sleep again

I stand against the wind

and sink in

to a throne

that is more my own

than anything

I tilt my hat to you

and try to show my gratitude

but these thoughts never stop

imagine all the lights going green

and all the accidents that might make

goodbye weeping willows

and afternoons in graveyards

your in a shoe box

with the hero’s martyr

kissing each individual

selectively

the blue prints

never came in

for the divine design

so we adapt

to the sap pouring

out of ancient trees

thoughts get caught

in translucent amber

and magnify

we are books

and shelves

arranged alphabetically

trying to squeeze in

or avoid the bargin bin

pages turn yellow

in the drifting

brilliant sun