Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

the memory banks are open
for business with or without the monkey...
coming to grips ain't EZ, the one
most people see vis-a-vis the one
you recognize, those steamships
in the black black ocean, so close
you could throw an inflated white tube
to that woman in the deck chair, ah yes
a glazed doughnut as a lifeline, yet you never meet
in that story 'cause if you did
you'd have some inkling about the checklist
for unified destruction, you'd see
the dangers in stowing away
behind a painted screen, your quasi wired
confessional, there is amazement in that face
that hides in a jar by the door
and Eleanor Rigby is more, so much more
than a dreamy Beatles tune, she is your accomplice
so you strike a match to see her eyes
and she says to you.... build a fire !
burn down the house, wash old loves into the storm drain
there are a million ways to remember someone
in this case it was mostly wonder-filled
dreamy recollections that merit another go-around

this is obviously that time
in life when a man pulls everything apart
and tries to make sense of the guts and bones
and nothing can stop him
he has to relate to every relationship
in some form, be it alien or other
there is great distress in simply trying to forget

oh, those soft-focus memories... K's amazing green eyes, the Venetian blinds painting stripes of moonlight on her naked body... S pulling me closer for the slow dance... first kiss with H, above the spillway of the dam... G's whispered endearments.... Was it really so long ago?

great response Roy....indelible snapshots filled with emotional permanence....