a barren parking lot
a quiet bookstore
in the middle of a summer week
where the righteous work
and the unrighteous
How can an emotional man deal with an emotional world?
a world of individuals
who all want something, confused, and believing
it must be given
but it’s never given
the right way.
a parent loves, their own way—it’s the way, their parent loved them
We give advice, we can’t take
is the one we can’t talk about
A world separated, by misunderstandings
conversations, that can never happen
I never open a book and get mad
I wish I could open a person
the way, I open a book.
Maybe, I don’t get mad very often
but it’s not safe to open a person
even a little bit.
The feelings between the thoughtful pages can’t be read—
they must be respected
and for the book to open, they must trust
and for them to trust
You must open your book
and if read, wrong
their book will close
it’s a journal, with a lock.
Rather than reading our books to each other
we share emotions
between our pages
that never say
precisely, what we mean
because it’s not safe to share our words…
Subtlety says, what isn’t said, but not quite
“good for you” and they don’t mean it
what they mean is, you think only of yourself, “good for you”
When love is a command, I don’t follow orders
and perhaps, that is my problem…
If I don’t feel love, I can’t give it
you can restrain love, and you can restrain hatred
but you can’t give what you don’t have
Maybe that’s why I like an empty bookstore
the books are full of courageous truth
people keep writing them
I wouldn’t know what to do
if they didn’t.
You only get a few good friends
in this life
and the rest are written down.