Like the creeping pawing toward the temple mount, this
Electric earth on which we walk, without shoes, without touching the ground
Has transcended our simple rituals and burns a convergence of lies
Into breathless, silent screams that are hardly prayers
The pointlessness of following a bloody-minded memory, this
Chemical fascination with something somebody scrawled on a paper
It represents something that never really happened
Except it did, in every way, so crushingly
So much so, that in the shadow of every saguaro, this
Girl, at the bottom of every beer in every barrio
In every lyric I ever heard, she flew uninvited
Into my tiny, black, vicious little soul
____________________________
Maybe a handful will get this
Inspired by a bizarre galahad
Who probably wouldn't agree
But that is synchronicity
___
This may be Part I
The story is entirely too complex
Too rich to leave alone, so there may be more
Paper Screams 