You can keep your digital playgrounds
I care not for a Kindle nor a Nook
There’s no time for your technology
At the end of the day, just give me a book
The old fashioned kind, maybe a paperback
Anything without a power source
I don’t need your highbrow radiation
I’ll stick with tangible pages of course
I may hail from generations past
Perhaps I’m boorish, perhaps I’m a lout
But I’m pretty damn basic when the day is done
I’ll still have my pages when the lights go out
The infinity of love
The entirety of a single breath
Odd footnotes to a shapely evening
After kissing the feet of Sister MaryBeth
The important ones are those you forgot
Distant notes too unbelievable to remember
But there’s a gravity to these infatuations
Still wearing Fair Isle, though it no longer December
Our dreams aren’t always tangible by birth
Effort & perseverance required, but you can’t relate
You won’t know it, but it’s worth the heartache
We’re doomed to live our days as humans & it’s called fate
Standing wobbly-legged
Spread stance, with a mock salute
Whispering; describing her desires
Soon, I hope she won’t be so mute
Passion of an fantastical nature
Possibly seeming like it’s unreal
Motioning me to come forth
Promises of a love I can feel
Building to a palpable potency
A tangible form of bemused intrigue
Charmed to dizzying arousal
Winding to a whirlwind fatigue
With which note to thoroughly enchant
Steps so sure that time cannot lapse
A smirk; mouthing words to erupt
But knowing I’ll finally leave her unclasped

Waking early before the morning
Monitoring the world, as I sip my achromatic brew
The front window, my porthole to beyond
From this security, I decipher what is true
I try to formulate tangible creations
Converting inspiration into mere words
Observations from my suburban perch
Sharing stories with Poe’s bleak-hued bird
Writing down the secrets she might share
Enlivening my dreams on this quiet block
Churning thoughts into hopeful spools
In which might allow my mind to dynamically unlock
Been listening to Chet baker all day
A friend said it’d make me a better person
I’m closing my eyes while the sounds take over
I’m imagining a lost era
Every man knowing how to wear a suit
Every lady in a tailored dress
Mad Men fiction – but with a tangible feel
A stiff drink to calm my modern nerves
& realize I yearn for well dressed people
With manners.
She was enraged
But it was merely an aesthetic
Undiagnosed shakedown calamity
Her stare leaving me cold & pathetic
She asked me why I was a Pisces
I told her I used to drink like a fish
Though attempts at humor fell flat
I was awkward; she was such a dish
I’m not as spectacular as I may seem
Age filters vexing characteristics instead
She looked upon me with curious disdain
Tangibly conceding to the voices in my head
Captain Q 