howl at the moon

*a song in progress

you've been howling at the moon;
morning will be here soon.
you told me i was rude,
but it's confusing to me dude.
there are moments on an eggshell:
good friends are silent: they know you well.
you flash anger like a struck match-
it'll burn through or will it last?

you can be tender, humble, and of like mind
a gentlemen i would find,
but like seeing you,
i catch a glimpse of that kind,
before months whipe you from my mind.
you've been out all night:
the darkness leaves shadows
beneath your eyes, and you sleep
everywhere.
morning will be here soon;
you've been howling at the moon.
whatever the night gave,
you'll wake up to.

a man doesn't like to speak of himself,
and i'm not a name on a shelf;
you care more than you care to,
but i won't ask you what you're up to.
you've been howling at the moon;
morning will be here soon.
you'll sleep it off 'til noon,
but i won't be there.
i said something you hate to hear,
but i also gave sweetness in your ear;
you can forget the night,
you can forget the injury, and
you just might step down
from it all,
and notice i've turned the page.

morning will be here soon,
wake up from this familiar dream:
you have been there,
standing round before legality
until it became
your business as a man.
when you wake, will you be old;
when you wake, will you be told?
morning will be here soon;
you've been howling at the moon.
whatever the night gave,
you'll wake up to.

iop

see the houses as they were,
low and simple and unlocked,
each holding a family like yours:
bicycles strewn in the yard
and parents talking in the street.
see the houses now emptied,
their contents in other cities,
leaving behind them
graying parents with equity
living comfortably
with new appliances and driving better cars.

see the beach access
open and unfettered,
when you could follow the cresting waves
and hear them crashing
before you reached the last dune.
see the access now,
boarded on both sides
like a clandestined trail
through someone's wealthy life.
sunsets are glimpsed through
obscure houses mounted on views
and a vague privacy.
this was once a barrier island,
only partly consumed by a resort:
still we are, so many of us, captivated.

my only assurance arrives
when i close my eyes and i am there:
a little girl floating in a tidal pool,
or climbing jeddies, or
walking in the neighborhood,
its streets lined with luminaries
for halloween.
it is enough to have sweetness
within sentimentality.
they are memories you'd
like to live once,
or in a pursuit beyond sanity.
i only attempt to give it words.

other people's parties

seven weddings
parties
dinners
i've made it to one this year.

lately, all you see
are pictures
of people you know
dressed for halloween.
they're either drunk
or else goofy and play-hardy.
other peoples parties
i'm on the clock for,
it's inopportune:
i could lose my job,
so i've lost my life instead.

ten missed calls
three voicemails
and a text: "are you living?"
speak up and
let the man know
you've rolled over
but you won't play dead.
i'm taking back
seeing the sun,
a sweet disposition,
credible dreams,
and these best years
in the late summer of life.
maybe i'll be
in the next group shot
at other people's parties.