Oh, molding day
with your fanatical fantasies
of freedom
(never attained)
Oh, mind-numbing stillness
how I would love
to smother you
in your dreamless sleep
Oh, for love,
For love
how much it would mean
to lay with Love
Oh, dry-smoked, anguished day
your attitude is showing!
Please break my wings
and push me
away

Now

We drink outside now
I guess that's okay with me
and we watch those
movies were soldiers hit
dirt, dead,
and then the sorrowful
violin score swells behind
visions of death, and
strike up incessantly after a
letter home has been read
dramatically by a deep,
accented voice
that cracks
over tender words.

He smokes inside now,
which does not sit well with her.
I guess we'll tire soon of these movies,
or perhaps we're all tired
of them
already.

We don't speak to each other now
but I don't mind.
Rather than hear the angered
voices all of the time,
or the monotonous verses
of the movies,
peace and quiet
sounds like
home.

Laura Nelson
Copyright � 2003