Well, well, well

So I wonder how it's going ta go
And I wonder how it's going ta be
I'm feeling well, well, well
Today
I wonder who I'm going ta be
Who I'm going ta wish I was
I'm feeling well, well, well
Today
I wonder where I'm going ta go
I dunno where I'm going ta be
But I'm feeling well, well, well
Today
The future- what's it going ta be
What'll life be like for the world
We all say well, well, well
Today
So many questions gotta be
So many answers never found
I hope I be well, well, well
Tomorah

Rain slicker, Star slinger

A rain slicker drips on the hook by the door
She pulls a revolver from a bedside table drawer
She holds the barrel to her ear and thinks no more.
The stars shine naked in the black night sky
Concrete sees the changing day as people pass it by
Another minute wasted, the star slinger starts to cry.
A city washed with rain wakes from its drowsy sleep
We trail down dirty sidewalks finding what we'll keep
Pills are prescribed every day- no questions asked, like sheep.
A rain slicker drips
The star slinger cries
You will keep on taking pills
And so, my friend, will I.

Whispers

Always there
Filling the silence
Between the two
In the spaces
In the gaps between them
'Hold my hand'
She cries
But he can't hear her hidden words.
His hands stay in his pockets.
His mind whispers
'Kiss me
Like you mean it'
'I'm broken'
Is her reply
'I'm scared'
Is his.
'How can we continue?'
She wonders
'Hold me'
'Hold me.'
She turns,
faces him
and he's there in an instant
heading towards her.
His arms embrace
and she smiles,
because somehow
he heard.

Musical Chairs

I stand up
and you slide over
she walks away
and he comes hither
we walk like dancers
we talk like conmen
in this terrible game
of musical chairs.
So where's the love
in our lazy wanderings
what's the what
and who is this now
we smile for the camera
we pass by the pauper
in this horrible game
of musical chairs.
A new mask taken up
for the friend and the lover
the cracked crooked mirror
grins on its own
we laugh when we're hurting
we lie when we're loving
in this deplorable game
of musical chairs.
We're all actors on a stage
and then there were none
the chairs all gone
and we've missed our cue
in this terrible horrible deplorable game
musical chairs.

52nd Street

She walks down the street, smiling, oddly happy.  Her legs are long and her hair is short.  She's not thin, but she isn't fat- there's nothing particularly noticible about her, though she is impeccably dressed.  In wedge heels and black shorts, a striped shirt and a large brown leather purse, she looks young- but fashionably so.  She walks down the street, nodding at passers-by and smiling at mothers pushing wailing infants in cutesy prams.  Occasionally she stoops down in front of dog walkers, looking upwards and requesting to pet their dogs.  They always say yes.  She's charming and she's mysterious- aluring in every way.  She's the picture-perfect image of the enlightened twenty-first century woman.
We move through different districts, passing homeless men and mangy dogs.  She continues walking, her shoulders back and her gaze cast forward.  She fascinates the world.  We pass train stations and strip malls.  She smiles at commuters and children on their way to school.  A cellphone begins to ring, and she draws it from her purse, quickly settling into a discussion about two mutual friends of the caller and hers who happen to be 'seeing each other.'  As she talks I realize just how much I hate that phrase and the utter mundanity it conveys; the confusion presented by the notion that two people only begin to 'see each other' once they start dating.  As I turn away from this lady I will never meet, I sigh, realizing that I lost interest in this woman long before discovering that someone so mysterious could be so saddly stereotypical.  I realize as I return to the train station where I first saw her that I lost all interest when she failed to notice the man begging for coins on the corner of 52nd street.