eventually

eventually, the best of us won't be
in the past, the fairest days
won't pass without our knowing it
without a care, we shrugged off lifetimes
left them laying in cool grass
to fade and melt away

eventually, our stories will mean more than
what was or used to be
and we'll keep going because it's good
to keep going, it's good to
keep looking ahead and
even need won't be larger than we are

eventually, even the sun will hit us
here in the shade
where i carved your name into
a page in my heart,
turned you into myths and majesty,
made morals of your light
oh, and we'll still shine
like memory burns so bright
we'll have to close our eyes.

eventually, drives will be to somewhere other than
where you're not
and where i'm not won't be where you are
at least in time, we'll find it easier to laugh off
and sit, rocking in porch swings
telling it like good ol' days
and watery eyes
won't mean sadness.

eventually, our yearnings will be ours again,
free to spend the day, anyway
that comes to mind
someone's grandchildren in tow
someone's future laid out bright
and we'll be smiling sunlight on their shoulders.

eventually, cigarettes won't be better
in winter time
and sharing one will be sweeter than
after making love
and passing water bottles back and forth

eventually, we'll count back the days
and see it's been years and loves gone by
since we turned our heads to avoid
a slight unknown
and what's known anyway just by
having it happen to you
just by going through it

eventually, we won't need to fill a glass
to make it by,
a nip to take the edge off
to take the pain
away.

eventually, when rain clicks against the windows
it won't remind us of you
coming late to my bed
or me leaving yours,
me leaving yours

(sadness is luxury we indulge so often it breaks sweat from our brow)

eventually, the clouds above won't seem so much
like fairy tales we told
each other late at night
to keep from falling asleep
to keep from wasting the time we had
(your secrets are all ten words long, as i recall)
and one day i won't think about you counting out
the words on your fingers while our heads
sat so still next to each other

eventually, the songs that mean
so much to me about you
won't play in rhythm in my head
won't play in circles
without drum beats, and filled
with long sad guitar lines
geoff farina wrote
so long ago

(sighs are crosses even we can't bear.)

eventually, only sad songs will be sad
and the things
that mean so much now will seem
as silly as our childhood worries
maybe then, we'll get our wonder back
(i'll be thinking of you when it happens.)

eventually, these last lost days that
pass so frequently
will be as careless
as teen girls undressing
(at least in movies there's smiles to share)
and walks will mean more than
the way we talked about crunching leaves
beneath our feet.

eventually, the neighbors that heard our lovemaking
will move on (away)
and life will be more than a series
of parenthesis
from here to there.

eventually, the stories we tell our friends
will grow fond and
free like flights of fancy
like the letters you wrote me in your
tired notebooks with run-down pencil lead
snapping at the end.

eventually, these words will wash away
the way a day turns forth
from one to the other
maybe we can save time by leaving it
right here
where it happened

eventually, all our yesterdays will
mean more than our tommorrows
and red wine will sit, un-gulped in glasses on porch-tables
while ceiling fans burst through the murk of humid nights
frailties turn to charm
the way charm turned
so quietly, to frailty.

eventually, stories about lovers
won't mean anything next to
what we had
won't mean anything
at all.

eventually, we'll turn out better
than we started
turn out our beds like memories
toss photos with the spring frenzy
and both of us
will only exist in thoughts had in passing

eventually, mistakes will lose their spark
and dim will only be nights by candlelight with
anyone who comes by.

eventually, change won't need to come
and life will pass us by
like war vets who look back at their day in the jungle-sun and
(none of them laugh)
but wouldn't it be nice if they could?
wouldn't it be nice if we could?

eventually, our times and tales will
end up more than books
or factory sealed letters
we never sent.

eventually, the end will only be the beginning.

2004-06-11 | 1:01 a.m.
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