the window still, the lone star
clinging above and my lover
as always at his post somewhere
at the blueprint of our world
this is our tomorrow..
the piles of books, his table,
my corner of the bed, paper clips,
a box of pizza
and water drops from the faucet to separate
the ticks of his heart from the 80's songs
of the radio
the city lights shine like brittle rocks
under the moonlight in a hypothetical shore
brick after brick his voice resounds
racing day and night to the quarry
of my mind
I was alone now..
somewhere in it all my tenderness for blue eyes
the day when my dreams will erupt in the cellar
along with dusty figurines and crappy shoes
cracks of time
breaking between now and tomorrow
where he lingers..