Having thoughts lots about dying.

And other things that I don’t know.

Its not the fear that’s got me down.

Just that I don’t want to go.

Now sure I know I have no choice.

Has been made abundant and clear.

This transformation is all the rage.

I just kinda like it here.

I hear all this complaining.

What’s wrong about this and that.

You never really stood a chance.

With an attitude like that.

The air was wet and heavy.

The heat it had a cost.

The Madness overtook them.

All sanity was lost.

There was screaming in the courtyard.

And raging in the street.

In the evening there was quiet.

Except some blaming of the heat.

I was writing in the A.C.

The kid was swimming at the beach.

I will pick her up tomorrow.

Before the summers out of reach.

It came to me, like sex or sleep.

A dreamy love that’s hard to keep.

A bridge between smoke and steep.

A zig, a zag, a Zim, a swerve!

A trick so sick, I don’t deserve.

And took it all to that last nerve.

I don’t know from whence it comes.

I just hear the beating of the drums.

And like the drink or drug that numbs…

I look around another glance.

Thanking God, another chance.

Love it all. This life earth dance!

I have this fear of push and shove.

It’s muddy clear. These things are of?

Of yesteryear a need for love.

Did I get too much or not enough?

Am I worthy now? Can I be that tough?

Do I face it now or run away?

I don’t care who says what or what they say.

We live to fight another day.

That means me, and that’s ok…

It’s more or less what gets us through.

Not what we say, but what we do.

So enlightened now? No, nothing new.

I see a lot, and that means you.

Old Man Murphy said, “I must confide. In the dark, sometimes I cried.”

“Like my father and his father before. They got less. They wanted more.”

Said: ‘To thine self we must be true. Then he lied to me and I to you.

“The changing times, I’m over it. I miss your mom, just a little bit.”

We walk this path. It’s me and you.  I don’t know much. That much is true.

Count your friends. They will be few. Learn to dance, the old soft shoe.

You face your fears, and you still die. It does no good to wonder why.

Was told a story that was kinda sad.

It was short on facts that just didn’t add.

Smiled inside, I think my cover was blown.

I didn’t hide. I think I heard a groan.

I hung my head, you know I didn’t see…

If that groaning came from them or me.

Cry some tears. Can hear that groan.

Things are bad. Can I give a loan?

Anything more than the weather is nice.

I just nod my head, and I don’t think twice.

Sure is nice. Sure is sad.

Oh, poor you. You have it so bad.

Sure is nice, yeah, if it don’t rain.

Can I help you? Sure once again.

I followed my nose down Mink Avenue.

Picked up your scent, and time just flew.

Felt so strange, and that feeling grew.

I used to drink and you knew that too.

Choices made, and we don’t know why.

Speak your truth, and sometimes I lie.

I get so tired, you know I can’t cry.

I nod my head, and I say goodbye.

I tell a story every now and then.

About a girl that I knew when.

I told her once and once again.

I made her smile and said she’s a ten.

I followed my nose down Mink Avenue.

I was feeling down, maybe even blue.

I saw you then, and time just flew.

I used to drink, just not with you.

I was walking in the shadows.

Cause I kinda like the cool.

Mama never liked the heat that much.

And would walk right past the pool.

I’m not inclined to leave that fast.

Sometimes, I like to stick around.

Spent some time there in the deep end.

Where some sinners felt they drowned.

There are sharks, and there are minnows.

There are vices, keep us froze.

I saw you dancing with your demons.

Smiling, spinning on your toes.

In the darkness, there was laughter.

In the night, I heard you cough.

I changed gears, started walking.

Was my time for stepping off.

I’ve been working on this nightmare.

The kind that smiled in your dreams.

So many ways to tell a story.

And not much is what it seems.

In the morning upon awakening, I Jones for coffee.

It’s actually the americano that I like, which got its name during WW2 when the American soldiers watered-down the expresso of their Italian hosts.

On my trip, I hear the morning chants of fellow Jonesers! “Got a smoke?” They plead.

I’ve been thinking about fasting and giving up coffee in my attempts at immortality.

These grand ideas fade at my second Americano of the day.