Wheat in Wind
Your alibi has disappeared
Can you stand there, empty head,
And tell me seriously what you want?
The blade may have been just wide enough
To keep the secret safe but now
The air is keener than smelling salts
Look just below my chin
A ruddy war within
Collides without a shirk or doubt
With your stupid state
The past still ushers in the now
What kind of neophytes are we
To slouch on purpose like there's no history here?
A doorway — that's no place to learn
The legs you count on all the time
Won't necessarily work when the feet get cold
This tryst of sweating palms
Oh, ego aves calm
The nerve of one another's breath
Break his aegis yet
Why did you come up here?
How can you get so near?
Do you hold all that fear in your mouth?
Think I'm unaware?
No face is that damn bare
Takes me awhile to care if I do
Sometimes, more often than I'll say,
I get my hands around the why
And to no one appeal for a hand-me-down
"All things have reasons," blah blah blah
What else, dig deeper, onto-
Logically it's nothing short of a cul-de-sac
Your time is bungling on
The weight of age upon you
Now and then the need is there
For a pushing-off
Oh, for a gavel and a can of spray paint
Instead of hindsight and the rue of what ain't
I wish we'd slap each other full blind
So we'd stop this squinting
Backed down, backed into corner-stances
Like neurotic linemen
God, as if unnaturalness were our nature's fruit
And here our basic difference lies
‘Cause you would surely fly like this
But I just can't accept that we're wheat in wind
Et tu, Brute, perhaps
But no more weaponed laps
Around the factory-headed mare
Caught its death of cold
Why did you come up here?
How can you get so near?
You slipped and all that fear shuddered out
Think I'm unaware?
No face is that damn bare
You want to know I care?
Now we turn on heels
And leave the air congealed
The door will seal itself
© 1994 John Brocato
Can you stand there, empty head,
And tell me seriously what you want?
The blade may have been just wide enough
To keep the secret safe but now
The air is keener than smelling salts
Look just below my chin
A ruddy war within
Collides without a shirk or doubt
With your stupid state
The past still ushers in the now
What kind of neophytes are we
To slouch on purpose like there's no history here?
A doorway — that's no place to learn
The legs you count on all the time
Won't necessarily work when the feet get cold
This tryst of sweating palms
Oh, ego aves calm
The nerve of one another's breath
Break his aegis yet
Why did you come up here?
How can you get so near?
Do you hold all that fear in your mouth?
Think I'm unaware?
No face is that damn bare
Takes me awhile to care if I do
Sometimes, more often than I'll say,
I get my hands around the why
And to no one appeal for a hand-me-down
"All things have reasons," blah blah blah
What else, dig deeper, onto-
Logically it's nothing short of a cul-de-sac
Your time is bungling on
The weight of age upon you
Now and then the need is there
For a pushing-off
Oh, for a gavel and a can of spray paint
Instead of hindsight and the rue of what ain't
I wish we'd slap each other full blind
So we'd stop this squinting
Backed down, backed into corner-stances
Like neurotic linemen
God, as if unnaturalness were our nature's fruit
And here our basic difference lies
‘Cause you would surely fly like this
But I just can't accept that we're wheat in wind
Et tu, Brute, perhaps
But no more weaponed laps
Around the factory-headed mare
Caught its death of cold
Why did you come up here?
How can you get so near?
You slipped and all that fear shuddered out
Think I'm unaware?
No face is that damn bare
You want to know I care?
Now we turn on heels
And leave the air congealed
The door will seal itself
© 1994 John Brocato