I know that whenever I conquered the weather
I floated along in the breeze
And I wanted to try
Just the once, wingless flight
So I aped like an ape, tree-to-tree

I visited brothers, dead sisters and mothers
Said howdy to Twain, Stoker, Poe
And I found out just why
There was hell, there were lies
And discovered who killed Ms Monroe.

There’s no time where I am, there is no Amsterdam
there is no Central Park, no New York
And I figured out then
I could change things from When
So I kept JonBenet from the dark

Now I turn to myself in this book on a shelf
Where I try very hard to exist
You might see me sometime
In your future or mine
On a page, in a poem, like this.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s