Into Perfect Words

I can put his image into perfect words
A harmonica humming a melody with guitar in the backdrop
Evergreens passing by his window fast
as he smokes another bud from his pack
The back seat to the front filled with worldly needs
traveling to a new space and who would ever think that our paths would meet?

I smell him like charcoal on fingertips

I can put his image into perfect words
Driving down the coast figuring time out
Bass guitar strums a cord
Heart unwilling to trust,
and so the strumming rhythm pauses and is placed into the pocket
of a black denim jacket

So much to this face
eyes which race
with beauty, curiosity, explosive creativity
I can nearly put his image into perfect words

He's only here for how long?
Maybe just till tomorrow-maybe forever
No matter the time he's been painted and engaged
Seeped into skin by the movement of ash and sin


written May 2008