all i see is green and blue and blue and green is all i see

"i can never seem to mix the
right chord with the perfect word,"
i tell my girlfriend. she laughs
and tells me i'm right.
girlfriends are good for keeping
feet on the ground.

the path we're on is a windy
one.
each step is a gallon of stubborn
every lunge is a million mile.
as a child i dreamed of running through
a cornfield that never ends.
i'm not as tall as the shortest
stalk.
the beaten circular path will be televised
tomorrow.
it'll be a scientist fuck frenzy.

how does one disappear in a cloud that's
stopped on a dime?
with the light of day as my guardian,
the silk in the reeds is all we've ever
really known,
now isn't it?

"i can never seem to mix the right wrong
with the perfect ex girlfriend," i tell my father.
he laughs and says none of us ever can, son.
father's are good for keeping
feet slightly off the ground

crop circles aren't so curious. they are really
just the beaten path of lost little boys
who aren't as tall as the shortest stalks
above their lost little heads.