Saturday Night Pacing #85
July  1, 2002

I wish you wouldn’t lock yourself away the way you do;
a  raw heart thrashing on a white plate;
solitude beyond wood paneling
surrounded, everywhere by fragments
that woven together creates a 256 bit mosaic
of you that I see.  2:00 am
or it just feels like it.
I was a flirt with
spinning beds and nicotine flesh
he was shy
shy
boy, yeah you could tell that he was
and he couldn’t stand me popping the
lid.  Looking inside, but at the same
time how could he not
        Listen to his heartbeat
    Pacing, chasing, tracing
shadows the shape of trees
That haunts his steps across the floor