Untitled

Lying in bed right before dawn
listening to silence
it makes a noise
(Jack White)
it is my muse
you might think
I have many. The way my mind works
I do. The way you twist my arm to make me love you. The way you order for me. The way you forget about me.
Treat me like my notebook.
Rip me up
put me together again.
I think clearer when you sleep
kiss you hard when you wake
and look at me in that sexy way.

In my bed
the angels whisper in my ears
about all that crap I forget during the day
the way you walk in a room
the way you touch my soul from a plane
the song you choose to fill my pain
the seriousness and lighthearted
strain
of my fucked up brain.

Sylvia saves me,
has a way with running words on a train track
I wave at her all the time
talk to her
and she is the best silent listener.
She knows.
You might think I love you
when I know not where I packed
my eyeliner
my bra
in this paper mill town
in Quebec.
I am fearless for only you.
I am frozen and warm only for you.
I think you want the
parts of me
I cannot give
but now that more arrive
at our hockey game
you can dump and chase
whomever has prettier eyes
you can punish
and put me in your penalty box
for being so naughty.
You can have all the power plays
you so desire
but watch out for
those cherry pickers
ready
to score.
In this town
it feels like nothing is possible.