Small Talk *

From the collected works, 'Blue China', 2016.

Let’s drink the last of summer wine and talk of things unsaid.

It drops below when night takes hold, the fire is unkept.

There’s fever in the funk house, the full moon in your eyes,

there are no masters in the game, just single digit highs.

Fame, they say, is black and vague, sip your burgundy.

I’ll stay sober till I find some city alchemy.

Fortune is a bee sting, the crucible inflames

and everyday at noon we play Victorian parlour games.

I’m not a fan of secrets, never knew one to be kept.

I prefer my liquorice shadow down the roads that I have stepped.

I wear my heart out on my sleeve loving you one ten

and I need a shot of courage before I go back again.

I’m sure i won’t forget you on the road to Anaheim.

You can lead my horse to water if you have a lonely dime.

A circle has no edges and the poets blood gets spilled,

so I can keep you in my arms until my glass gets filled.

* lyrics to a song by the Psychedelic Lemons