Surrealism and Construction Paper
Blue skies are covered with the texture of a used Band-Aid.
Sidewalks arenít places for a nothing kind of afternoon.
Another one of those things that makes you want to live.
Can I relate this woman to this season?
I imagined, a minute ago, her face, and my face
I think the sun knows what itís talking about when it hits her in the face.
Shining properly, doing what it was made to do.
Throw me into the air and I feel like Iím dreaming.
Like that feeling you get when you jump really high
And you donít seem to land.
Timeless reality going nowhere because I make it stay still for a few more minutes.
A simple thought of a stroller and the two of us
Makes my world go Ďround.
Compact disk or hard-driven emotion.
Get off the computer dumbass, come and check out what Iíve got here.
As confusing as everything seems (or at least how I make it seem),
It all makes perfect sense.
Parallel to my pregnant thoughts
And my rubber ball vocabulary.
Here comes another sunny afternoon.
How is it that youíve made me such a man?
I never knew what to say.
But now every word just kind ofÖ
Spills out like a fountain and I canít seem to control it when I think so much and youíre on top of the world in my headÖyouÖmake it all worth living for. You give me the most Iíve ever had; could ever have dreamed of.
Tactical performance might I add.
You seem to play it smart from every angle.
Smarty-pants in a good way,
Sheís nothing short of perfect.