Counting hours, he’s still lying awake
An empty notebook and a path to the lake
Where waves all cascade down then seep into the ground, not here to stay
A restless night on empty streets
Walking north to Cedar Beach
Sifting through the sand as it drifts over his hands and slips away
Mixing memories waltz and twirl
Dancing sandy humdrum girls
Twist into the distance, leaving sod all in their stead
But the words of Thomas Stearns stuck in his head
The women come and the women go like waves upon the lakeshore
They coast up close then slowly wash away
The women come and the women go like waves upon the lakeshore
And every single girlfriend is the same
He slipped off the dock, a nervous wreck
Water up to his neck, stripped down to his socks
He’s worried bout the past and the speed with which it passed and the fact that he might never settle down
He dunks his head, looks towards the sky
Demented by the surface
Serving as a curtain to make sure he isn’t certain there are clouds around
Mixing memories slip away
Clumsy bummed-out humdrum babes
Bob out in the water, get carried out to sea
And leave him on the lakeshore with nowhere else to be
He said, “I’ve lived in the same house in Oxford my whole life on Hendred Street
Existence in still water spent going with the flow
I’ve spent my whole life dreaming about leaving Hendred Street
But now I think there’s nowhere else to go
I think we should all take modernist poetry as gospel
[Individuality
I met my first college girlfriend outside of Halstead trapped in a hostel
[A society
She was smoking Pall Malls and feeling all small
She was leaned back crying on the bedroom wall
Damn, was she a mess
She was a damsel in distress
She still looked pretty and I’m pretty sure
That’s what she was going for
Cause every single girlfriend just wants to get saved
From the claws of the modern world
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