You Gotta Shoot Me with the Cameras in Your Eyes

it begins like the fruits of a first song.
down the street, Morgan Avenue, up her shirt. 
how many times have you felt this way?
until I fill the day when we first met,
and the ones that haven't happened yet,
I think about the smell of your youth
and I have come a long long way now. 

the Jessica Harp few played a park in Toronto
and called me collect from a pay phone,
but I missed it because I am an idiot.
I wouldn't have it any other way. 
Paper aeroplanes made out of the pages ripped from books
make the best regret and later litter.
I still listen to that song, you know the one. 

last night cut my hands
and pulled me back to shore
for the first time since before.
I want to be better. I want to be different.
In your eyes.
And do your parents have a record player?
probably not. 

take to the sky and see how far you get.
I will watch you go.
but be sure to look down as you pass back over.
the trees and the stones and I will be here when you get back.
drop your shoes because there is no good time for gravity or love. 
It ends like the skip of a record,
pop fizzle pop silence and violence.