Somber: the bus-missing days,
Turned imperviously on by the rain...

In the midst of misfortune,
of my saddest predicament...

I toss your roses to the dirt,
and watch as you smile and weep...

I was made to cast afire,
to strike the match once...

I'll never sigh for a love that never was,
or weep for the way things ought to be...

Death advances now
on the front line...

Hide my face, cruel darkness.
Disguise this shame...

A blaze of summer, long and lazy
streams along in tunes so gaily...

It's funny how oft I'll rewrite a line,
to make it clever, or witty, or rhyme...

Avert your eyes from the terror
of another single afternoon...

I used to think
that people who believed...

Puzzle-pieces in the ground,
kids drawin with the colors of their voices...