Gotta remember what he said to me,

What he said to me…

 

What a lovely person you were to have in my life,

I remember meeting you at a party three or four years ago,

And talking with you and Justin out on the deck.

I remember Justin was convinced some girl was

Going to Marry him,

Or something like that.

It’s so easy to glamorize the past,

Walking in on Reid and Seth running around my room hammered,

Seth chasing me with his butt up onto the

Couth and me hitting it with

My meditation cushion,

It breaking open and grain flying everywhere…

 

Paranoia strikes me right in the neck,

I think the way mice die says a lot about our inner

Worlds,

The way a mouse squeaks when a cat merely places its teeth

Against its body,

And the way that squeak turns out to be the sound of the mouse’s

Soul leaving its body…

 

Somewhere out there, there is a ladybug on

A purple umbrella in the warm rain of some

Tropical country,

And said umbrella is bobbing along with its owner while they

Pass a crime scene,

Some motorcyclist has been run off the road

By a bus-driver,

A lone jogger stands with the police and recounts the incident

While said ladybug and owner hurry on.

 

I’m sure the owner of this purple umbrella gets home and

Sets some tea boiling,

She leans into a chair and lights some incense.

 

The ladybug crawls off and rests on the red leather,

Micro drips of water percolating around it,

A scene that looks bizarrely like a dog and its owner

Resting on a couch,

Except it might only look that way with a microscopic camera

Positioned right behind the ladybug so as to make it

Appear dog-sized.