d. January 2004
I am standing under a tree. You are standing next to me.
We have lived many times. No one knows how many.
We are talking, but you, never one to waste time,
You have walked with me before.
are painting the tree as well.
Sometimes I was a tree
Not a picture of the tree, but the tree itself.
and you were a painting.
”Why bother with the middleman?”
Sometimes you were a heart,
you say to me, one scoundrel to another.
And I was a tear.
One other thing I’d like to mention,
I would like to kiss you on the lips, tell you I love you,
you weren't afraid of using black when it was called for.
but that is gone now
You even kept a bit for your personal use
and all I can do is touch you with this breeze
for times when the going got tough.
Anyway, that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?
I liked that about you, that funny, sharp edge.
I mean God turning us inside out like a pocket
Here are some words to take with you
to find the gem inside
like a bracelet of hair:
Black, Heart, Tree, Friend, Love.