I have a headache.
I have a sore back.
I have a letter I can't send.
I have desire,
it falters and falls down,
it calls you up drunk at three or four a.m.
to wonder when...
wonderful.
All the cheap tricks I tried too hard not to pull. Pulled along or pulled apart.
The diagnosis of a foreign frame of heart.

I have a story
that I'd like to tell you,
it's littered with settings and second takes.
I have a feeling
that hums with the street lights
and hides under ice in
always frozen lakes.

My mistake
to make you cringe.
Another greeting like a broken creaky hinge
to oil and push or pry apart.
The diagnosis of a foreign frame of heart.
Found a cure
for being sure,
and, sure as anything,
I'll smile for my reckoning.

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