Chance, Spring, and Our Talks

by Todd Worrell 4 months ago in heartbreak

the ways

Chance, Spring, and Our Talks

Take one chance, throw the ring

Who here knows what a new day brings?

Clichés and counterweights abound

In this forsaken one-horse, one-trick town.

Making love under the moon and starlight

Like we read in your magazine one night

Makes hell less hot, water less deep,

Back tatts brave, and footsteps fleet.

Who doesn’t love a starlit night,

a tip of the hat, or flashing yellow lights?

Mirrors that favor, showing the best side first,

or coats that zip tightly, concealing the worst.

Favorites of mine are the smell of exhaust,

burnt red hairs and the tingle of salt.

Wasting the sun and not bathing for days,

Remembering words and a perfect deadpan phrase.

the cricket’s song, sweet lullaby

green’s arrival forms a genteel,

wry smile

children playing ball in the cul-de-sac

dogs barking in the neighbors backyard

But, never quite as simple as

they’d have you believe.

fucking in the field,

behind the old tobacco barn.

sleeping in the truck bed,

don’t take me back home.

I want to remember you just this way,

before the grass overcomes

and fresh blooms hold sway.

I believe in renewal, but not this kind

I already know what summer brings,

and I despise it

These menial sounds of my meaningless chatter

pressing against lips preparing the matters

mentally pacing the seams of a wood planked floor

for hours upon days, decades upon scores;

conversing with you like a day-to-day friend

in this hall of my memories, my kitchen, our den

experiences we’ve shared in the still of my soul

file folders ever shifting as this time slowly rolls;

you where your are, and I here alone

waxing quixotic, like I’ve done all along

the sands always sifting and the world’s still a stone

and I’m standing here conversing with you,

here all alone

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