She, the Phillistine

You are always beautiful, under red-sky evening and full moon skipping

Over musty book with nose buried in the pages- reading

With hair mussed and eyes bloodshot from sleeplessness and angsty teenage depression

In black dresses and solemn looking sapphire eyes of empathy for me at the funeral home

And ivory face buried in my shoulder weeping on account of that bastard, cancer in your mother

Looking ragged tank-top and shorts 94 degrees August with the windows rolled down and eyes ahead on the great Road

Swinging like an child in the park sundress and pixie-cut, you little fairy

Oh you are missed, Ms. C you always will be

Laughing at the kings and kissing paupers like me you will be missed

At sunday mass with sleepy priests and rising sun

you will be missed

On monday mornings cold and hard like headstones gray in 7am twilight

you will be missed

When Wednesday comes and goes and comes again with classes and unsure thoughts of future days

You will be missed

During hard/good-times and long roads ahead with no music and many many fields of green and wild-flower lemon sun beating

you will be missed

At Christmastime when all the family shows up- all three of them and you're not my number 4

you will be missed

On valentine's day we never celebrated anyway

you will be missed

With each success and great failure, every ups and downs and sudden tv show realizations of reality

you will be dearly missed

Your sarcasm was best when you cried

Your clarity best when you were angry

Your beauty at its peak when in those eyes was the glow of young and moving opportunity like a dancer beating feet across the laquered stage of Future

What future?

Where are you now when your name is called at night by the child who wants you more now that you're gone?

Who will live in the cabin on the glassy lake near the forest now, my dear?

Who will sun and moon rise and set on like the great continent of the heart and where will we all go when the church bells ring to call us home?

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When god gives you the right thing you never know until you don't got it no more

gifts are like that

what a gift you were all nice and wrapped in a basket case sweetheart

who cried when she laughed and sang when she spoke

It all ends so soon and friendship doesn't go where love has been

real love

Time doesn’t pass right anymore sleep comes hard

You don't need saved you've got wings now

just don't fly too high