The Age Of The Year

Dragonflies write their names
in the sky, and you look at me
with bloodshot eyes. You spit,
"Are you still indifferent?"
Your hair lies on your cheeks
and shines, when I look at
you ahead of time. I wonder, "Could
I have ever guessed this?" Beautiful
boys with careless voices, fall out
of their own lives. And I still
don't believe that their wishes
came true. They gave into the girls,
it doesn't matter if they fight,
and they insist that's what they
were born to do.
Walleye tie together fishing line as
you are drowned in contagious pride.
You think, "I have got to drop this."
I'm just a little too heavy for your
load, you know I can't go on
without it.
In the end I guess we're all born
again, dying in a fetal position. And
I wonder if I'll still want you
when I reach the climax of pain
and I have to hurt more,
too or will
whatever it is be simply glorious,
good enough to crave?
Mini vans hide under
an overpass
as you fall face first into the wet
morning grass, you sing, "If we
leave, will we really last?"
Your hair sticks to your cheeks
and drys, as my final sentences
pass.