Where is the Arm

That would hold me and keep 

The warm feeling from flight that I am 

Where I want to be and haven't left 

Or been running next to the car door, 

Locked and leaving?

I can't wait for the moments
When you are sitting back on leather seats
With new bands to hear and trees to see, 

Signs to places new, exciting, far, 

While I am watching the road, 

Making the turns, 

Knowing the way.

I Didn't See You Today

I had this love,
Ready to explode 

If only I'd had someone to give it to

Diffuse into glowing constructive energies.

You were driving and looking 

Out your window for what to do 

About your empty heart, 

Where to fill it up. 

You didn't see me today,
But you saw my bike chained to the rack
And I saw yours.

After waters have burst and dispersed, 

Energy left,

Our bikes were together.
It's all we were.

Sometimes I Feel, Four

Sometimes I feel

I've been living for someone else so much

when I turn to ask myself a question

he is no where to be found.

Present though unseen, 

Transparent with little substance,

I am no different than the air

Blowing past your arm, 

The one I thought I was holding.

Sometimes I Feel, Three

Sometimes I feel 

I'm a man of another time

Even though my time has not passed, 

It might never come

Here to be.

Bushpig in the Corn Field

Run, run, run, 

For hungry hands with stones

Chase you, and tires squeal 

To chew you in tread.

Rocks thrown at your ribs

You run the fence, 

Apologizing to flee.

But the gate is closed, 

"He could get back in."

Past barred exit you fly back and forth, 

It will not be opened,

Until for bushes you make, 

A sure sign you'd stay and disrupt.

Aiming for the cherry in your mouth

Wheels fork you to the ground.

A bullet rings through your head; 

The dinner bell.

None of those men will take satisfaction

In your flesh. You are for the cheetahs. 

I am not a man of lust, 

But if I was I would starve.

Sometimes I Feel, Two

Sometimes I feel

uninvited to the dinner

that was my idea

as I listen to fun bantering

whizzing past my ears to the corner of the room.

Maybe that's where my self-worth went.

Sometimes I Feel, One

Sometimes I feel

like the wrong number dialed.

Turned sour on the receiver

by quiet breathing at the ear

was a lost Aunt

or second wife of the father I never knew.