A kiss and a cigarette

A kiss and a cigarette




Cut this rancid heart from my chest
Pull it from it’s root
Where it lingers to long on her
Where it brings back all of those sins
And beats them into my head
Cut these putrid memories from my skull
Pull them loose from my spinal cord
And strip the thoughts that are left behind with a
Razor blade if the need is there
And leave these old thoughts in my hand
To keep the thoughts from creeping back
All of the dreams left as nightmares
And all the children that were stillborn
And turn my life into some old black and white movie
Where all the violence takes place out of the scene
Drain this soured blood from my veins
Suck every drop from my bones
And leave nothing but the dust of failure in the place
And leave me with nothing but
this little yellow bastard on my back

My Shadow and her

My shadow feels like it weighs five hundred pounds
as I drag it along on the ground
and the hot sun beats down on my face and makes me
feel like the hot asphalt
in the parking lot beside the beach
this stretch of beach where we use to sneak out to at
night
and make love in the sand
and sleep here with the water lapping at our feet
until the dawn came up behind us
and she use to say I was so crazy
sitting here at the beach all day
but still she came down here every day with me
and always pulled me close when the other girls in the
tiny little suits
walked by and flashed that smile my way
and she use to say she wasn’t jealous but she never
left my side
here on the warm sun drenched beach
looking out into the Gulf of Mexico
my shadow feels like it weighs four hundred pounds as
I drag it along
and think of that day
she was singing “the elephant song” that she had made
up
and could never get out of her head
well I stand here with my feet in the sand
and shaking thinking of her
pulling her top off for the first time
and running to the water, looking back at me
and her shorts coming off there where the water was
hitting her feet
and I think back to that day
when she told me about how she hates black people
and how it was her family that taught her
but she didn’t want to hate like that, but she didn’t
know
how to change
and my shadow feels like three hundred pounds, as I
drag it along the sand
and I can see the drugstore up on Gulfview Drive that
we use to go to
where she first kissed me outside the front door
and I can see the spot at the edge of the beach where
only a few small tufts of grass
separate the sand and the concrete
where she sat in my car
with her hands down my pants
that first time, and she was still in her schoolgirl
dress
that she had ran straight her to see me in after she
skipped class
my shadow feels like it weighs two hundred pounds as I
drag it along the waters edge
and I look out across the city as the light of day
starts to fall
and I turn my back on that sunset that we use to watch
together
and I look into the city where we use to roam the
streets together at four in
the morning
looking for an open store to buy another pack of
cigarettes
and sit and smoke them together in the dark front seat
of my car
sitting down by the beach
and it was always someone like her that I dreamed of
someone like her that I needed to keep me safe from
myself
my shadow feels like it weighs a hundred pounds as I
drag it over her grave

Attie’s heartbreak

A tear was staining her cheek
As she looked on at Keith
Sitting by the door, waiting for his father
He packed his own suitcase
And sat there since noon
Well Jack was supposed to be here at one
And the tear was staining her lips
She knew from the past he would never show
It was ten past seven
And Keith hadn’t moved
She brought him dinner
There in the doorway
And he sat it on the floor
How did you tell a five year old
Daddy isn’t coming
And the tear stained her neck
She carried him to bed when he fell asleep
And the tears flowed
And covered his little suitcase
That she sat beside the bed
She sat there in the rocker all night long
And cried all night long
But it broke her heart at dawn
When Keith wouldn’t let her unpack
His little suitcase

Tina Marie

sometimes, late at night when I am all alone and the sounds of the city are around me, I lie there and long for the return of that night, on your bed
and it makes me lonely to think
that was such a wonderful moment
that we both still remember it so well
but sometimes I just long to find out what your skin smells like
after that hot shower you have just climbed out of
sometimes in the dark I remember your breasts pressed against me
soft and warm
and I remember those moments but not the movie that played
and sometimes when it seems that I might have missed something
that green dress comes to mind
and reminds me of your beauty
your skin soft and pale against that cloth
your red hair falling in curls
but still I end up at that night
alone together


© Rik Woods 2008