Suicide

I expect to see my life flash before my eyes
Standing on the edge of this ten story building,
But instead all I see is the woman
Preparing dinner through the window
In the building across from me.
She's young and beautiful, representing
All the reasons I am up here and
About to die.
Perhaps, I think, I should wait till she looks up
And sees me before I jump,
Just for some last minute kicks.
But no, she won't look up,
And if she does she won't see me,
Only the clouds and the crisp blue sky.
Now her husband comes over and gives her a kiss.
Perfect domestic bliss.
Perhaps, later, when she hears the news,
This woman will cry.
But probably not.
I am a stranger, after all.
Goodbye, stranger!
Perhaps in another life.
As for now, I have a date with destiny.
(I fall) How wondrous is this life!

The Ambitious Bird

Once upon a time there was a little bird that desired to see the inside of the sun, so off it flew as soon as it was able, making its way to the sun. It got hotter and hotter, and the bird started to melt, so it came back down. "Boy," he said, "I really didn't know the sun was so hot. Maybe I should try the moon instead." So off it flew toward the moon, only the higher it got, the colder it got, and it began to freeze. "My," thought the bird. "I didn't realize the moon was so cold. Maybe I should try the stars." So off it flew toward the stars, but the higher it got, the further and further it seemed the stars got. So it stopped and said to itself, "I didn't realize the stars were so far away. What shall I fly to if not the sun, moon, or stars?" Then it heard the sound of chirping--a beautiful song. It looked and saw a beautiful gray female bird, and flew in its direction. It followed the bird for days it seemed, and the bird realized, when he finally caught it, that it was love all along it needed to fly to.

Romance

When I was ten and she was five,
She wore pigtails and hid her smile
Behind her mother's back when I came to ask
Her to join our neighborhood game
Of kick-the-can.
And when I caught her eye, she ran
Back into her house.
"Sorry," her mother said.

When I was fifteen and she was ten,
She still wore pigtails, though
I pretended not to notice,
Even as she skipped along beside me
As I walked down the street with my friends.
"Where are you going?" she said
In what seemed to me the voice of a mouse.
"Nowhere," I replied abruptly, in a voice so deep
It surprised even me.
"Nowhere sounds fun. Can I come along?"
My friends glanced at me sidelong.
I rolled my eyes and said,
"Get gone."
She skipped away, unfazed, and I watched her,
Ashamedly amused.

When I was twenty and she was fifteen,
I was suddenly amazed by her appearance.
She was going to a high school dance
When I walked by her house.
I desperately wanted to say hello,
But she just seemed so happy, and so young.
I myself felt old, and glum,
That is until she smiled.
The fact that it turned me around so quick
Was frightening--it seemed so much like desire.

When I was twenty five and she was twenty,
We met at a party.
She had a boyfriend
But I myself was single.
The years had chased us down, it seemed,
When I asked her for a date.
A few months later we were together,
Fifteen years later
But certainly not too late.

Weed

Green thoughts in a room full of green haze.
Are my hands really connected to my arms
Or are they only pretending to be?
When I laugh, does that take me one step further away
From some deep mysterious Truth?
Someone's trying to explain something to me,
Something that might have something to do with me,
But how can I be sure?
Maybe I should keep listening,
Only there's a fly on the wall
And that's much more interesting.
Is that blood dripping from the ceiling?
I think somebody lives upstairs.
Or should I say lived?
I think I hear clapping,
But no, it's a candy wrapper.
Maybe I should think about God.
"Isn't that right, Dan," says Ben, clapping me on the shoulder.
"Huh-huh. Yeah, man. You said it all."