From the Knife fighters in Myrtle Beach, to the strippers in Austin, to the Sales-man in San Diego with teeth like piano Keys. There is a weird technicolor high five waiting for you.
Bouncing lights in the sky are always
Either the lights in Downtown Heaven
or UFOs
Both of them make me wish I was an astronaut.
Mystery is a tragic gift.
You are a mysterious gift.
Which is good
Because everyone
Is tired of tragedy.
Vietnam and the 80s were enough.
For you I want the jungle with-out the slaughter
And the mullet without the burden
I want to drop Molotovs off the Eiffel Tower
and Waltz on frozen ponds with steam irons
as ice skates.
Just to see.
.....just to see
if we burst through the ice
What the last thing you'd say to me
Would be.
So I can whisper to you
that this Pond is only neck deep.
and that your breasts look like a sideways 8
with the right one, being the bottom half of 8.
And that its funny how 8 is the perfect number.
Arent you sick of not having a secret handshake?
That involves kissing!
And reading nipples like braille.
Braille for "Oh yeaaaaahh"
I want to catch up on a year of missed kissing
It would take about 5 days
of woodpeckering your face into a lipstick swamp
to make up for 12 months of not being caught
under your storm-drain eyes.
I like to imagine that I am the Pope.
And in my first televised speech
I show up wearing a pair of gator skin boots
And thank the Devil for the promotion.
Just to hear Italy crack wide open.
All the things I need to know
Are hidden.
Are all the dentists in the world
secretly Nazis, like we've all suspected since
mom put the fear into us on Halloween?
Where do escape artists hide the key when they're naked?
Even though its about as likley as a prom night virgin,
I still want to know if Shoko Asohara is enjoying
His prison sex?
Can the Wizard I met
in the Humid mountains of Georgia
cast a spell of unbreakable Love
and shake out the the Roaring Twenties
from his Sherwood forest beard
Or was smuggling moonshine his only talent?
You have the longest name Ive ever heard.
I takes me a week to say it.
And thats if I wake up early to start.
Your name is magic.
Like you
Its the sound of the circus
when we went and turned
the bearded lady's face
into a pinata.
Its the sound of a summers worth
of crickets
swarming through the trees.
Its the sound of shrapnel
ripping through hummvees
And touching absolutley
nobody
When Im with you
I feel like a lightning rod
trying to pull information out
of the swelling clouds of your lips.
I want you to tell me if you know
how to build a flux capacitor
And who built the Headless Horsemans treehouse?
I want to know if I can carry you
on my shoulders.
And if you want to sling pistols
and stomp through saloons winning back the west
all over again
in the rowdiest bar-brawl of all time.
