i listen to older couples speak of old hats
and listen to them say the thrill is gone.
the world passes outside the curtained room
and the creeks rise frantically unnoticed.
when a house is on its stilts living above itself,
the facade of a morphine drip pushes the button down.
a rebel in the corner listens on
the grass inside his pipe is newly picked.
they whittle away at the hours laughing loudly,
and the wine flows evenly thru forgetting glasses.
the sciatic nerve glows hot with rising fester
but unbent knees know the floor is for little children.
a widow said her term life policy was up to date
and she made sure the younger old were staying current.
she lost her husband but at least he had insurance
he dropped dead after not touching her 18 years.
there is a gradient set that worries the masses
and another set of policies that most adhere.
the life to bond becomes updating a kitchen
and the wallpaper in the north bedroom needs replaced.
i looked all around me to find a connection deeper
than the one in that moment they found among the friends.
i saw it poor akin some fraternal order where
woman separate themselves from the men.
when we were young they say we used to be so carefree
but the loss of resources fostered a dim perspective.
and the medals of respect, of persons grew in that very moment
but diminished again when based on profits and net worth.
he's a self made man they hawed and changed the subject
another lofty station to admire.
but all the rooms in the biltmore do not linger
more than a second when i'm looking my love in the eye.
2 years have past with no sign of fading.
the flowers bloom and i plant in you over and over again
they tell me give it ten years and i'll feel different
but they don't know the power of my pen.
i write my own life, i write my own romance
i write the words to love by and ever live in.
the idea of my affection is enough to turn the pages
and i will never go a day without you in them
jPayne - 2.4.10
photo jP - jPaYne charcoal sketch summer 09
