Harvey Is My Dear Departed Car, By the Way

I dug this up out of the debris in the top drawer of my dresser. I don't know whether it's worth anything, but I feel like I should share it.

Flawless blue melts seamlessly to sun's favorite yellow, green feels completely neglected.

We agreed that normalcy, oddly enough, exists near that shack in the PG cemetery.

Bodies so imperfect cannot contain pure contentment for more than a few dusk lit moments.

As night crept onward, we went back to Harvey and hammered out the details of our relationship.

We didn't stick around long enough to see the troubled moon. Absence forges biased thoughts, and two long years and two odd weeks have kept us wandering.

Chained only by my empty sighs and pent up ambition.

I know I won't feel the same way in the morning, so Harvey and I stare down the troubled moon, watching it slip through jigsaw clouds.




I still haven't made up my mind, and the sprinklers came on to chase me inside.

And I will add, enigmatically enough, that people change and circumstances change and things have changed and I have moved on. Nevertheless, this week I was drawn to (and perhaps I connected with) the idea of barely missed opportunity.