Pretty Things for the Mind

you go out there wilding

with a dinosaur

video camera perched on the shoulder

of the party

with your piano tucked in

to your back pocket

while I safely plonk down and sink

under the whole of the moon

on the sofa bowing away

long past quiet hours

and I ask myself

with my lips buttoned

why I am waiting

for the turn in the verse

as you sing

to lure me out

past the piers

where I’ll be swimming

fine

I should be doing fine

but I hurt the most

despite the pretty things

I tell my mind

in the open light of the moon

in this universe where we keep missing

the meeting boat that’s filled with paint

of muses and music

of intermeshings