2004-09-09 - 9:07 p.m.
License To Lie
He told me to call if I ever needed to talk.
I needed to.
He said, "I'll
bring the liquor and stories. You bring the guitar."
We sat on
the ground
between midnight and four in the morning
one eve toward the movement of fall.
We drank ourselves dizzy
talking just like old time
friends
before the war started.
Tell me a story.
As we're
laying on the ground
sipping cocktails
and trailing blankets between our toes.
Taking our time.
Singing
our favorite songs.
He told me of his blue
and gray
days,
how he never wanted anything
as much as setting the whole place on fire just to take it down.
And I said that I plan on taking a boat to the mid-Atlantic just to skip a stone.
We made a deal that night
that the match made in heaven
is the one first lit these days.
What comes after this?
