old tuesdays

keep motor mouthing,
damn it - you talk a lot,
through all the quelled rupturing,
the copper shock,
here i was,
thinkin' about all the things you could be doing with your seconds,
thinkin' about how i must have aged like a dog,
too old - too fast,
i owe you my spine full of words,
letters arranged to sing all my worried glances,
and yours too,
the ones you inadvertently use to follow the strangers walking across the hardwood room,
blew all my kisses into the windy april evening,
storms brew,
drink it down like any other,
full of the envy for you,
full of the energy too

there was a stream that cut straight through the patchwork fields,
in its shallow depth i calculated the rocks on the base,
i always wanted to know your base,
walked along the soaking bed of the galloping water,
measuring the stones that would skip best,
wound up,
threw all my wishes across the silver surface,
and it still doesn't know my name