glockenspiels & odd time signatures

“I know I'm paranoid and neurotic, I've made a career out of it.” Thom Yorke

and so it goes, the more you try

the more it blows, the lightening strikes,

the weight is towed, the rain it falls,

the yarn is sewn, the rhythm ranks high,

the face lies, the smiles come when faith finally dies,

and all in all the time ruptures to the tinklings of an instrument

one never learned how to play &

raincoats are worn on the sunniest days &

boring is the only game that’s played &

smog replaces the beauty traced like

scars that come when babies make their way into this

place, aren’t ya glad you were part of the whole

charade?  aren’t ya glad it all ceased to make

sense, when the landlord came to take your rent &

ya looked him straight in the eyes &

laughed, for it all comes quick when you want it to

last, it all slows down when you need it to

pass, humming the notes you’re sure you know,

forgetting the words that don’t quite flow,

lucky to wade in the shallow water,

luckier to pretend that there is no other,

watching you & watching me, we’ve known it all our

history, the one that meows out loud a whine is the last to get

the sip of milk before it turns---

and we both know it doesn’t turn like the finest of

wines.