the man was pure poetry in motion.
he waved his hand and stanza's fell from his sleeves.
when he opened his mouth, beauty tumbled down like a prisoner breaking free.
he spoke of nothing important and waved to nothing in particular.
but he moved me, like fresh blueberries on a summers day in the park.


the man made me want to reach into the heavens
grab God by the ears and kiss him on the mouth
(in a strictly platonic way, of course, it is the Almighty, after all)
he made me want to ride sharks bareback and tame the wildest of seahorses.

the man made me feel one with the universe.
made me hope for something more that my pint of golden beer.
made me long for the comfort of curling up on my fathers lap at the age of 2 and falling asleep in long car rides
the man made me want to rip myself limb from limb to start over.
to begin anew.

the man, the man, the man.

the man. the man across the bar.