Not
going no place because I love you.
Happy
or sad my feelings laid down like cement stand the test of worn down time.
Press
down the keys on the Hammond B-3 Organ and music comes out. Press down the keys
on you and all hell breaks loose because that’s just the kind of girl that you
are.
Picking
up on your mojo from another state.
When
you smirk on cam it reverberates through me like another earthquake in
Oklahoma.
Every
move you make my eyes follow because ever since we met I feel like I’m being
held hostage. It’s the 1970’s and another Dog
Day Afternoon breaks the speed of sound as Attica lights up the telepathic
switchboard of our Declaration of Independence minds.
I’m
scared of heights, but will climb the palm tree if that’s where all of the best
coconuts reside.
I’m
scared of you, but will climb on top if that’s what you desire. I stopped
trying to figure you out when the newspaper’s ink stained my fingers the color
of yellow journalism.
And
McCarthyism still very much exists in our government today. Just look at how
they’re treating Susan Rice again when the story is not going their way and
they don’t like getting backed into a corner.
I
am so tired of trying, but if giving up is anything like when my best friend
put that noose around his neck, well then no thanks I’ll stay right here and do
my best to give some sort of a damn.
She
called herself a cam model, but to me she’s so much more because I do not
suffer fools gladly and the connection I feel was not made up in some
storybook.
Not going anyplace because I pray at some point she’ll be comfortable enough to believe me when I say I truly do care about her and that her reserved state is just one more moat I’ll have to cross to reach the promise land.
Not going anyplace because I pray at some point she’ll be comfortable enough to believe me when I say I truly do care about her and that her reserved state is just one more moat I’ll have to cross to reach the promise land.
Charles Cicirella
4/5/17
No comments:
Post a Comment