i woke up in the pearly morning light and
my skin had speckled mica in the night
drinking down all that water from all them copper pipes
striped light falls easy on stripped down tights as
my tongue ached against all our silent fights
i'll slice down all your pirate kites with my powdered glass string might.

and this is how to write a song
this is how to right a wrong
this is how to right a wrong
that is how we'll get along.

how hard can it be to be me?
harder than using a sandal to stem the sea
harder than writing a dear john, and harder than to flee
when everything wrinkles under palms sweaty
when you squint your eyes against the clouds for being too sunny
you'll know how hard it is to be me.

and this is how to write a song
this is how to right a wrong
this is how to right a wrong
that is how we'll get along.

my wet glassy spheres roll around in their places
find the glittery dots in my skin and count thirty-six paces
i pass every alley and all them blacked out anime faces
and all costello's detectives throw in the towels on their cases,
while 'round and 'round the memory-dog of you chases
and all the dripping scent markers i left leave no traces.

and this is how to write a song
this is how to right a wrong
this is how to right a wrong
that is how we'll get along

plains of abraham

i had a dream that was really a memory
of drifting along, a long, with you, on the shimmery grasses of the plains of abraham
i had forgotten that day when our hands had yet to touch
and the ocean breezes were like me: teases
and i laid under the swingset and you poured wine between my lips
the whole world ended on the shore
the horizon was an illusion.

up that hill in jericho
lost in a maze of million dollar babies
antique roadsters and the giant front yard trees only the rich keep
shading their excesses from a curb dotted with bins
never touched by can collectors
we were stoned
and laughed harder the more we puffed around cul de sacs
youth and forever were the illusions.

so when i woke up i had to ask you, "was it real?"
and your memory had changed too, you said it was but the baby was there, too
out there on our version of the plains of abraham
maybe he swang in the swing and maybe it was water on my lips
but either way your hands found both my hips
and the isolation was a beautiful illusion.

s/he & me

when i see it happening again,
i see it happening again
and i want to pull out every eyelash
pluck every cumulus cloud
sink every boat-shaped moon
and save you from it all.

she
oh, she
leans so heavily
hard into me

and he
oh, he
slips so deliciously
wet into me

when i see it happening again,
i see it happening again
and i want to yank out both those arms
thrust my fist into every garden
and gnaw through each worn-out smile
just to save you from it all.

she
oh, she
has anger unrighteous
directed unto thee

and he
oh, he
knows every synonym for lightness
when he is with me.

when i see it happening again,
i see it happening again
i want to smell each of your digits individually
press my cheek to your ankle longingly
and tie my legs to all bare branches
just to save you from it all,
yes,
i'll save you from it all.