whatever happened to the boy that lived an hour away?
he'd drive down to my house and take me out to dinner
he was sweet and shy, was brought up in a nice home
so one night he asked me, while we were sitting in the park
"will you be my girlfriend?" he was nervous and anxious
i closed my eyes, and smelled the surrounding lilac
i said "ok, that would nice"
the next thing i knew, we were at his parents' house watching a football game
his mom asked me what my intentions were, and i just thought about how i hadn't even kissed him
but this isn't the boy that breaks your heart, he doesn't cheat or steal or even speed in his car
i kept saying to myself, this kind of boy isn't supposed to exist.
you should hold onto him, he's cute, he's smart, what's the problem?
after what seemed like forever, he took me out one night, and then we were on our way to his place
he planned it out well, with champagne and candles
he laid me down on his bed
i sunk into a world of down feathers
he said "i look forward to our future together" and i thought about how i hadn't even kissed him yet
so finally he kissed me. then we were bare, and he started to go further
all of a sudden, it was over.
the boy jumped up, and said, "i'm sorry that wasn't supposed to happen"
i lied and said, "it's okay, you were great"
he said "no, boys like me aren't supposed to exist."
i soon fell asleep, and woke up in the lush ivory linens
then felt something lightly on my back, he was drawing hearts softly so not to wake me
i thought about how i wished i could love him, he's every girls' dream
sweet and sensitive, but to me he was just the boy that lived an hour away
the kind of boy that wasn't supposed to exist.

Mother, Mother, Mother

i've watched her jump out of windows, and crash into trees.
she's always in such a huge hurry to the casino
she sits in front of the slot machine, tired and dreary
she's out of quarters, but that doesn't matter
the sevens are coming

the greedy man that owns the casino, likes to watch her
he doesn't make any money off her, but thinks she's nice to look at
so he tells her, "you're lucky, and smart to keep trying"
she's inspired to wait longer.
i tell her he's a liar, he doesn't care if she wins or loses
but she doesn't hear me
because the sevens are coming.

i bring her some coffee, and say, "mom, maybe we should just head home"
"no" she says, "you're only jealous, because i'm winning".
"but i love you", i tell her
"how can you love me, i haven't cashed in yet."
then i start to wonder if i've ever cashed in.

Mishel

i miss her already.
her look of independence, strength.
i remember her soft wavy auburn hair, and fierce blue eyes.
such a sultry beauty, yet intimidating presence.
a loyalty that never compromised.
why do these things have to happen?
she was worth more than the anger that sold her liberty.
dammit, why is she no more.

The Invitation

it doesn't interest me what you do for a living. i want to
know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting
your heart's longing.

it doesn't interest me how old you are. i want to know if you
will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dreams, for
the adventure of being alive.

it doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon.
i want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow,
if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become
shriveled and closed from fear of further pain. i want to know
if you can sit with pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide
or fade it, or fix it. i want to know if you can be with joy, mine
or your own; if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy
fill you to the tips of your fingers and toes without cautioning
us to be careful, be realistic , or remember the limitations of
being human.

it doesn't interest me if the story you're telling me is true. i
want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself;
if you can bear the accusations of betrayal and not betray your
own soul. i want to know if you can be faithful and therefore be
trustworthy. i want to know if you can see the beauty even when it's
not pretty everyday, and if you can source your life from its
presence. i want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine,
and still stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver of the
moon, "Yes!".

it doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money
you have. i want to know if you can get up after the night of grief
and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to
be done for the children.

it doesn't interest me who you are, or how you came to be here.
i want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me
and not shrink back.

it doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied.
i want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls
away. i want to know if you can be alone with yourself and if you
truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.

Of a Lifetime

there's this place that he always takes me
it's nothing special, just a short drive in the car
for the most part, they don't have any attractions
just an old biker bar, that serves cheap whiskey

"please can we go to the other place?"
then picture in my mind, our vacation
being crowned a ring of plumeria, sipping sweet pink blush
running naked in the sand, only stopping to watch the tide break
making love to the constant whispers of the ocean
lustrous in the orange and red sunset
i say, "please, please"
"but i'd only be going because you want me to"
"come on, you can't say you wouldn't love it"
but then he asks, "why? what's wrong with the place we go to now?"

so i sit and imagine the place i so dream of
and wonder if i'll ever even go there
then i wonder, why should i be with someone that doesn't want me happy.
"please, consider it"
"maybe someday."