Punk Rock Academy

Cheap Tricks For Lovers

i feel like i'm still getting over a postcard from new orleans and the way you sat on the curb, waiting for its author. the writing wasn't much to speak of and i'm certain i told you better stories than that but i'm glad someone missed your touch because i was beginning to wonder where it had gone. it hadn't left entirely - it just migrated, like someone leaving a theater before the movie's end. my skin suddenly understood that your hands were not only emotionally distant, they were entirely absent. and my lips realized they might as well have been speaking in tongues for all the good that their words did. it is only insult to infidelity that you chose a lover who cast lines like flies on misleaders into a rippling stream where trout flash underwater, pink and silver against a grey bed of stony silence. in the meantime, i was washed through downstream rapids while the gentle headwaters treated you more kindly. and now that i've reached the river's mouth, i'm still fishing around for answers, but nothing's biting except the last hooked barbs we exchanged as our waders filled with water and dragged us down with their weight.

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Last modified on Wednesday, March 26, 2008