lives of crime - they call me the cuban lyrics
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in the years before the buildings
we were underwater
swimming always upstream
flailing at being smarter
how could the rumblings of our hearts be so close
to the craven, crass projections of our throats?
sometimes you’ve left
chopin’s ‘nocturne no. 2’
on the music stand
and i am just chewing it into pieces
and spitting it out one measure at a time
sounding on all the right notes
other times, we are spread so gallantly across the room
and your fears hit thе floor
and my palms stretch skyward toward the ceiling
and wе are young volcanoes
not wiser than old mountains but burning brighter, hotter still
the fireflies got loose
and to collect them now would be impossible
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