New Year's Eve Because It's August

he waltzed along the top of the edge
of the building
drunk
slightly
and as he swung and looped
around the neon
reading grill
i from below peered out
from beneath the christmas lights
strung into my hair
and fuckly said

"you will fall"
to which he replied with laughter
"what will you do if i do?"
"i will come to your funeral in a red dress"

and i did 

I read the writing on the card
she handed me,
picturing Winnie the Pooh,
holding hands with Piglet,
and walking in the woods.

It read:

This is how much I love, you, Sweetheart.
Keep working hard.
Take pride in what you do.
I'm confident, that with your abilities,
you'll find the exact place, that's right for you. 
 Just where you should be.
I am always so proud of you, and your efforts!
 Love, Rick.

As I handed it back to her, she dreamily said,
"I love Rick, so much..."
"Who's Rick?" I asked.
 "I've no idea." She answered.
"I just found this card on the floor."
"I'm keeping it, because
I think everyone should be loved and believed in,
this much."

I, too, love Rick... Whoever he is...

I shook the beer,
Because I thought it was the salad dressing.
I shook the salad dressing,
Because I thought the lid was on.
I am tasty.

~Cake~

~Thank~you, Flagrante Delicto~
Inspired by Ketchup ~2008

Did You Get That On Video?

this is the time of the night...
that words and thoughts
that no~one understands,
run screaming and panting
from the heart
that is flaming and melting.
to escape the burn.

~cake~

You

You.
You are so quiet
on this night.

So quiet.
Are You out there?
Are You well?

Do You love me?
Can You tell?

Do I want You to?
Do I want You?
Do I want to?

In the quiet
In the still...

I do want You.

Do You Think I Think You Think I Sleep?

I pressed my fingertips to my lips, tonight,
Your world two hours deeper...

And touched your worried brow.
You thought, I thought you sleep.

Did you feel it?

I sent it on the silent lightning,
That woke me from my own sleep.
My world two hours darker.

I have not felt the touch of you...
Your hands pressing where my thumb
becomes my hand,
in circles,
healing where the pain comes from.

Do you think I think you think I sleep?

And do you?

Your world two hours newer...

Or is it mine?

It was exactly one billion degrees, at ten o'clock at night. The cicadas rattled so loudly, that I thought some huge electric plant must have gone awry, somewhere close by. Their harsh sex cries so loud that it seemed deathly silent. No soothing or cool rain fell from the sky. Instead the moisture straddled the air, like an obese, angry woman, sitting atop her lover, ready to smother him, with a pillow, after finding him with another. As I walked the distance between the front porch and the Mexican corner market, I had to wonder, if Christ had returned, and left us all behind.