never will

and here I come
arched back and frenzied
without comic stares or adjustments
and you, quiet the room you
left me in and I know
sometimes you wish youíd
done a few things differently
but not now, not here and never will.

And here it is, safe as fire-hoses
that break noses in summer
the water pressure takes us whole
and takes us down,
cold air burns sometimes and youíre why.
So youíd like, here with me
another way around the inside of
your mind and memory
but not here, not now and never will.

I found, inside my mind
the other day, a history of us
the story of how it all came
together and all fell apart.
I flipped through pages and had to
ask myself if it would be worth another go
another try after all the brilliant summer sun days
(Sundays) and mornings spent in the world
together and how nice it
was and could have been and could have stayed
but not here, not now, and never will.

So now you, one phone number dialed
by the fingers that used to run up my sides
and a ring on my end, a ring on my end
a smile Iíll never understand across
my lips and I figure Iíll answer
and do and you start blathering on
and on about this that happened and this
you did and how fine it started out
and how lowely it ended
and how sore you are about it all
and then youíre quiet
(waiting for me to say something?)
but Iím quiet too, and after
a few minutes you ask if we can meet
for coffee
and I sigh, tell you Iím glad youíre alright
(at least as all right as you sound)
but not now, not here, and never will.

So a few days arch by and
thereís the ring again thatís yours
and you say youíd really like to talk
in person so we do and you tell me
how much you miss me
and Iím feeling all turned around and
upside down and you just sit there
waiting on an answer
that I canít make come.
not now, not here and never will.

Worth a shot, you say
after all the better-offs and sooner-or-laters
and I sigh because you were a miracle to me
always are and always will
but I canít shake the feeling
canít shake the way it was and how
you drowned out my aching head
with all your laughter
and how simple it was for you
and how loudly you laughed
and now you, here, waiting on a word
that never will come
Iím trying to figure out how to piece the inside
together again, the way
you broke me, charged out like bulls
in bull runs and now Iím wondering just how
just why and how is all of this going to turn out
and it might I find myself thinking
but not here, not now and never will.

You were always easy as arm-chairs
and I canít tell now, even where I could
just how far youíve come or what
itís all come down to for you
and each one chooses one way
one day, the inside of eyelids
over do-overs.

And I have to.
right here, right now and ever will.

you're always one more world away.

2004-10-22 | 1:10 p.m.
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