Wednesday, June 17, 2009

What's it like to come home
and tell someone
about the old man on the train
who kept calling out his lover's name?
What's it like to come home
and tell someone
about a song you heard today
the one about snow falling in May?
What's it like to share a life
not an imaginary life
a life that contains jostling people
shuffling feet, passing trains
tired shoulders, cold hands
a cup of coffee, a stolen seat
blue skies, strong winds
a dream that's too big
you asked me how my day was
and with 15 words or less to spare
i could only tell you
that a bird that flew by
keeping its sharp red beak
and opaque blue feathers to myself
i did more than laugh today
i did more than cry today
i did more than eat today
i did more than sleep today
i did so much more than that
i need you to know, that i
i did so much more than that.

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