Journal # 06.17.16

i may not be a geometry star, but i know how to leave the seven ball behind the eight and take your money on the nine, i might have lost our debate, but i can talk you out of getting behind the wheel, drowned in imperial pints as we are, together at last side by side in some pub, living outta memory, under overcast skies, looking in your eyes. i may not vote this time around, but that don't mean i don't know my rights, kid, in no swing state and we are colored blue and shaped like an ass, too. and i vote for you. i have been broken-hearted a hundred times over, but we will get her rolling again just takes a little tender love and care, ima mechanic of love, wavin' white towel flags to your window, you see, look up in your eyes, those wild and overcast skies, you stare down at me all wonderin' am i dangerous? will you fall for me again, will i charm you somehow from the outside in, and a bottle of gin, i might not hold a steady job, but see me beside you sunrise to sunset, holdin on to us yet, down calm like the charm, any unfortunate scenario, say, four or five alarm, seven ball behind the eight, and hopeful to disarm all that old unchallenged hate got you heavy, deep in the past where it's buried, someone who hurt you, and so you need help, you need love, you need someone you can trust. will i be the fortunate one? can i be careful and gentle with you? acknowledge every tear fallin off your face, pushed out on to the streets hand in hand for all tomorrows, or maybe just right now. dangerous now, come here. dangerous now, me and you and there's no other way.