I had a dream last night that I outgrew all my clothes, or maybe they outgrew me. My dad likes to interpret my dreams, but he's a lawyer. But with an eye for the absurd. And he knows that sometimes the truest things lie just beyond the reach of words.
Like a needle and thread,
an accident of blind ambition,
you are the mark but not the mission.
You are the line I've crossed so far.
And on our second date, we went to the planetarium. But we're adults.
But when I look up at those fake stars, I'm not thinking about Ophiuchus, but taking you home. And you tell me to get my mind out of the gutter, but I don't know where else it would go.
Like a comet and tail,
like an angel without a purpose
you spread your wings when you get nervous.
But I'm just a guy with a guitar.
And when we go between the things we say and the things we mean
we always get turned around.
But in a certain sense, with every changing tense, we're always homeward bound.
Like the borderline,
you unfold like steps retraced
with abandon without haste
as we go further in the car.
Like a needle and thread, you've got me all tied up in stitches. There's the bait, where are the switches.