A Day In The Park

Cigarette Smoke

I breathe in your words like cigarette smoke

I’ve never smoked ever but this must be what it’s like

It’s stings my throat and singes my tongue with sweet burning flavour

I’ve inhaled so much second-hand smoke from being a third wheel

This has to be what it’s like

I love it

The sweet smokiness

It’s like having a part of you inside me

Closer to my heart

Eating away at my lung tissue

A disease that I welcome with a greedy breath

I love you

I mumble through the smoke

I love you

But it was a lie

my perfect, darling cat :)

Chasing the Sun

Chasing the Sun

Following its tail

Moving towards the firey sky

It’s all I can every do

•

Dark and red

Loud and soft colours

Float above the ombred horizon

It’s so far away

•

I’m so high

Up in the clouds where borders don’t exist in dotted lines

No man can say this is my land and this where I stay

Put down the weapons

•

Trees and roads and city

They don’t have names up here

The cloud casting shadows don’t discriminate

When everyone thinks they have control

They have none

•

Pin pricks like on a dream board is my home

They stand out in lines and strips and blocks

Underneath the airplane wing

My family and my cat and my friends

Sleep

Underneath the airplane wing

•

Grids and lines are houses

Lit up with the bright joy of a welcome home

I’ve forgotten about the sinking feeling in my stomach

I can’t remember when my ears weren’t popped

•

Stars anchored to the ground

Thin out into the blackness of land

Leaving the dense city behind

Underneath the plane wing

•

Turning and tilting

Sinking and swooping

It was the wrong place

Too small to make a safe landing

To far to house my bed

To high to reach down and touch the glimmering city lights

•

I don’t live in the city

I breathe the city

I take it in when the sky glows orange

When the free stars

Dance

Far and away

Stealing the warmth from each other

To stay alive another day

•

Into the clouds

I’m enveloped

Inside the whipped cream sky

Nothing but a hazy grey ocean

The blinking plane light

Reflects off the fluff surrounding it

•

There’s my city

I can see the invisible dots of my parents

Waiting for me inside the airport

My little sister

Bouncing on the balls of her feet

Jittering and shaking with excitement

•

I can barely see the fading green property lines

Small winding roads

A house with sleeping and unsleeping people

But I am still awake

Sticky notes are my love lanuguage

I want to be written about on stick notes

I want something penned for me on a coffee stained napkin

I want to be written for on a mint gum wrapper

Small love letters secretly scrawled on the inside of locker doors

Someone write me a sonnet, a saga in four parts composed in a private diary by flashlight.

Sweet nothings etched in the stars themselves, in a not left in my lunch, on the fridge, next to my shoes

Tell me the secrets of your heart in the margins of your math note

Confess your love on a scrap piece of paper torn carelessly from a notebook

and I said, “hey look, the sky’s on fire”

winter vibes ❄️

Jasper

Jasper is national park

A landmark in my mind

A place for long walks

And quiet conversations

Tall trees that wave as you pass

The smell of rain

When you first wake up

Gravel paths and muddy trails

Whispering leaves when the wind

Blows a little harder than before

The colour green in every form it can take

Making you love the colour anew every second

Holding cold hands

Pockets that are warm

Beanies and black sweaters

Watery eyes and explaining that you’re not crying it’s just the wind

Hugs that hold on and don’t plan on letting go

Friendship braclets on dirty ankles

Hiking boots because they’re practical

Bass strings

Years pass like trees out a car window. My hands on the steering wheel, your music in my head. The road trip music, the chill rock where the guitar is the lead and the singer takes second. Somehow you find your way into the bass players strings. Low and aggressive, relaxed and gentle. You’re with me as I drive through the mountains

Jazz is Like Glass and Yarn

Cutting quick and deep

Sharp melodies

Sassy tones

At times smoother than cream

In a rich cup of coffee

•

Notes, unseen

Cascade down the blank page

Of a musicians mind

Spilling out clear and sweet

Softer than snow blanketing a bungalow

•

Chords, a medium to be measured with infinity

Spinning eigth notes like cotton on a spindle

Pricking your eardrums with phat, coordinated rhythms

Low and as thick as molasses

Higher than the moon

•

Fuzzy, soft and neat brushes lightly caresss the snare

Chunk, Chunk, Chunk the constant thrum of the guitar

Propelling the group as the bulky anchor, the bass

Crystal tones, loud and bossy, the trumpet commands

The saxophone pleads mournfully to be heard, like a lost colour in an intarsia pattern

There are all kinds of love around, but the lovesick are blind to all but one.