Ordinary nights

Those were ordinary nights
falling down like jelly beans
tripping over piles
of good gold nothing
all the tables we had
pricked with empties
Why do I lie?
Why do my eyes dart
over birthdays and ages?
Why, after all this time
of continuing to do
the same thing,
do I still
consider
myself a sinner?

Maybe I was meant
to be a rainbow.
Maybe I was meant
to be a child forever
but the only way
to be a child forever
is to die young
and I am not
being let off
that easy.

My eyes dart
over birthdays
and ages.
those piles
of good gold nothing
those ordinary nights
an old mouth
full of jellybeans
a table full of pricks.