Plain Unrequited

like the last piece of luggage
left going 'round on the belt
unseen as though camouflaged
yes, that's how she must have felt

there was no smile on the face
of the unknowing traveler
who fleets by like hours and days
he doesn't recognize her

it could have been written on the skies
but there is the answer in your eyes
it's unrequited
plain, unrequited
there's no need to read between the lines
or map out and analyze our signs
it's unrequited
plain, unrequited

in the closet is a dress
which she can't bring herself to wear
with only moth balls to impress
even she forgets it's there

there's that quiet, narrow street
she's passed by so many times
if taking notice were a feat
he wouldn't care less at her rhymes

if there's ever one thing to regret
which part of "no" was so hard to get?
it's unrequited
plain, unrequited
it's either i have to play it dumb
or hope that i suddenly go numb
it's unrequited
duh, unrequited.

but this, too, will disappear
for there's no comfort in loose ends
still i'm left with my one fear
that you would want us to be friends

soon enough the line would blur
an unwanted second chance
almost strangers that we were
helped me be a fool just once

it could have been written on the skies
but there is the answer in your eyes
it's unrequited
plain, unrequited
there's no need to read between the lines
or map out and analyze our signs
it's unrequited
plain, unrequited

there goes another story they would tell
of one more unlucky clown who fell
though it's unrequited
plain, unrequited

unrequited.

30 lines

i listen to the phone call that doesn't come

in that secret place a tie has come undone

sad like a silent, littered fairground out of town

gone are the tents, the circus, and the clown

you played me like a guitar that's out of tune

still, i hope the sun shines on my street by june

i've seen dust harden on shards of broken glass

beyond repair is a love that never was

fire flickers and casts its magic on my wall

yet there's nothing here to catch and break the fall

i figure it's an atonement for the sins

of the haughty flower and the little prince

as my glass globe of once-upon-a-times

breaks into the cruel joke of pathetic rhymes

a girl i knew once thought that she would die

the day the mailman wouldn't look her in the eye

the dead, cold iron of an empty barstool

may as well be the birth of another fool

romance is a housewife at a garage sale

she brings home the bargain of a sorry tale

of a two-way street we'd never walk in far off lands

i like snow globes only when they're in my hands

dry and fragile as crushed leaves beneath your feet

is a heart on journey that is long and bittersweet

hurting like miles of grass that's trampled on

with the gnawing pain of parting long forgone

empty bottles, melted ice, and one good laugh

i'll pull this off and put my mask on fast enough

you wouldn't know, and i'd forget those cherished times

if only i hadn't written in 30 lines

One Girl's Story (Roy)

Roy was the random skip in her uneventful meandering in college. Every person has the incurable interest in novelty, and green eyes definitely stood out in a dull palette of black and brown. No matter how excruciating it was to reduce Roy to a cliché, she constantly thought of him as someone who’s “more than meets the eye.” He was an enigma, a puzzle that adamantly refused to be solved. Beyond color, it was his lost-boy charm that merited attention in every girl’s inner Superman. He was poetic and fraught with late-adolescent angst. He saw the world laughing at him, and he would laugh back and flip the finger. He was courageous to a fault, giving people not only a piece of his mind but his fist, as well. He had lived within a wall, figuratively and literally, and he knew that the power of choice was always within his reach. He could choose to reveal himself with whomever he deemed worthy, and still remain safe. Proximity causes judgment, and he had found a way to circumvent the Law of Proximity: the greater the distance, the closer one can allow another into one’s thoughts and pains. He could choose to disappear whenever necessary, which, after a couple of years, he did. And all that was left of Roy was a beautiful recollection of that unexpected voice breaking through her long monologue. That and her song.

Serving Time*

She said they took you in
Took your pictures, and the flashes hurt my eyes
You pressed your fingers to the inkpad
Leaving traces in my heart
I told myself I can’t
Let my blood run through your hands

But you plead guilty
No one told you to
You never knew what you were doing, good for you
But you’ve always been so sure, just as I am sure
The only thing that you don’t know is what you do to me
To me

You talked about setting buildings on fire
And I ask you now why I’m the one going up in flames
But I don’t want to be the ashes off your cigarette
(I’m so glad you quit)
You may be the one behind bars
But I’m the one in prison, and
What’s 30 days to serving time since ‘79
You did say you loved me
But I can’t tell you I loved you more

I’ll take the bus to the North Star
If in exile that’s where you are, and
We’ll French kiss by mail
Though my tongue is sore from licking too much stamps
I’m so unwise, and I can’t breathe
(Did they push you against the wall?)

And you plead guilty
No one told you to
You never knew what you were doing, good for you
But you’ve always been so sure, just as I am sure
The only thing that you don’t know is what you do to me
To me

*Copyright 2002