l e t ' s r u n w i l d

let's run wild

like the kings and queens

we never were

gone mad

succumbed to the horror

of courtly life

to the point where it's better

to knife the guests of honor

than sit through

another knight of

sober revelry

while everyone else

becomes outlandishly drunk

the better to stand

your presence

let's run away

because what can they do,

really?

it's out of their hands

and I'm in yours,

or pretending I may be,

eventually.

if you follow the rhythm

of words you've heard

you'd realize that my

disguise is as coltish

and coy as your own

let's run away,

escape the sentries

by playing shadows

blending, bleeding

right into the

landscape - nightmares

instead of people

living dreams to replace wishes

you've no hand in the design

it's just something my mind

came up with,

a long time before you...

an escape plan

I couldn't put into practice

until now -

I needed a crime

fighting criminal partner

to take my side

and the last audition sucked

so bad

I had almost given up

(you know what that's like, right?)

but sometimes people

slip in last minute

and don't look like much

but have the balls

to back up nothing

make it something

like sewing together

imagined cutouts of air

to make a breeze

or a carefully contained

tsunami

hidden with decorative grins

and bright eyes.

hey - I'm looking for

Blue Eyes

has anyone seen him?

maybe it won't matter in a year or two

(got, but the time between

auditions stretches)

so...are you in line

or hanging off the balcony

waiting for the magic

to get a head start?

no waiting around these parts -

you've got to grab ahold

and strangle all that life

right back into your own

Head down.

put your head down

and tell a story

edged in wonder

backed by tears

make believe

the way children

make love

with words and imagination

and hands

set yourself up to fall--

empty space can catch you

it's not the fall that kills you

it's the realization

harder than packed earth

laced with glass:

if I wake up, this is over

this wasn't meant to last--

you think

but you're not sure, now

you never have been sure, now

so how come you're always making choices

hearing words voice their opinions

star-struck standing on two legs

landing ground canyon

candyland abandoned

tiny todlet trippers say hey, hey

let's play today until you're tired

then--

put your head down

and tell me a story

let's try for a happier end

Oatmeal Cookies.

Making cookies

in the kitchen

to the soft scream

of the heating oven

and the background ball game

on dad's

television.

These are special:

Oatmeal-not-enough-butter.