acraein

We made a plan
It's more than I usually have 
Now to let the pieces
Fall where they may
No interest here in spinning plates
And I can't juggle anything

We made our way
To San Diego and on the plane
I wrote to feel alive
Or, I wrote to fill the time
You'd been anxious that we wouldn't 
Make it to the gate

We made a pact
Well, I made it while you napped
That we'd say yes at times
That we'd normally not
I was anxious I'd be anxious 
About making the most of it

We made a face
To make each other laugh
When you read what I had wrote 
And just like that
We were back on our first date
Sitting just above the bay

And I was pretending to eat your banana 

In the flowers with you,
we must be moving so fast
cause time it drips like glue.
Our future is our past.

Here's another moment
I'd capture in a bottle.
We could stay here frozen.
Oh, the freedom of a fossil.

Hand in my hand
standing in the sands.
I'll go first, you go last
slipping down the hourglass.

In the weeds with you,
blew through that almanac.
Just look how much we grew,
engines scream down the tarmac.

When was it I noticed
my foot stomped on the throttle?
I had broke my promise
to the boy inside the bottle.

Hand in my hand
standing in the sands.
I'll go first and you go last
slipping down the hourglass

Everybody knows you need
A seed that you can grow.
Need connection to a setting
and a theme that's apropos.
I love a tension between
what is heard and what's unseen.
A major C to minor D suggests
narration fabrication juxtaposed.
Soliloquy in form of prose.
Rhyme schemes that keep you on your feet.
Dactyls and iambs seem crucial and
I am one who fell
into that once alluring well
until I went to sing it out and found
A spoken voice can run a foot into a million.
And lucky me my major crutch,
such a weight this duo lugs.
While I kick back and steep my tea
and all the world belongs to me.

Cry under skies of aubergine until
cranes take away the folds that you filled.
A tomb is a room with no Atlantean frills.
You can't take away my Centipede skill.

I used to be a song you could sing
through a paper tube (doo to doo to doo)
and though there's infinite participants 
(if you include the lookie loos)
a paperboard faux baton
doesn't hold the water like a Mellotron.

Then I thought that I could be a cormorant
fishing in the moat with rope around my throat.
I grew a dozen rings and didn't think
you thought I was alepidote.