Liz caught me staring at her b***s

maybe more melodical

when my sentences stumble over themselves

like myself on the walk home

to cartoons and an empty sheet of notebook paper

 

the street outside died a while ago

evolved and, in fact,

spent its lifetime expanding

but it's dead now, dead as neanderthal man

     with faint elegies, whispers

remembered in frameless pictures in forgotten drawers

as tranquil as your sleeping breath

     little ripples on the surface

pretty hypnotism

like spitting from great heights

     slow nights with their own charm

disarmed by the quiet

     keep quiet

          till sunrise

till your eyes flicker alive, ablaze

     i'm amazed

by the ease in your sleepyhead voice

how it pause so sweetly at my earbone

     maybe more melodical

like an unknown hum

from an alarm clock never set