You lick it. Open, get out, and close your door.
Walk to the blue box and drop it in the drawer.
The heart wasn’t big enough.
You hope they pick the middle one.
Looking back, you wish you’d put two,
or endless.
You breathe, sit in your car
and wonder if you’ve gone too far.
You know when it feels good.
You feel when it feels good.
You’ve never given up on them
because of what could.
We’d kick it. Open, get in and go for more.
Drive to a new place and release our old roar.
Say the heart’s big enough
while redeeming the middle one.
Looking back, ask and hear “I do.”
Caught in eyes.
We’d breathe, dive through a wave
and wonder if this time will stay.
At night he read a story with a knight, and it hit him.
“It’s over. That chapter? The end.
The envelope, the mailbox, my god what have I sent?
Goddamn you technology.
One second, that stole all of me.”
He says, “Perhaps the postman will lose it,
and better? Why not a call?
Though slim chance of hello, it’s been years after all.
History writes the same thing over and over and over.
I never hear about the letters and in the end
I didn’t want to break this thing again.”
this is your life chuck johnson 