the notebook

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i write well
hell, there's not too much i do better
well, raising my son into a king
excluding can'ts, no's, & nevers
&, i might fuck you off your feet
till, you hover like feathers
never one to kiss & tell
i rather write you a letter
like the notebook, so the memory'll last forever
keep you hopeful
i have a tendency to fight the header
never clear, how or where to start
though rallying in the finale
& voila, there you are
smiling like people from cali
ensuring the design on my canvas
satisfy minds, exceeding standards
i mind, when i have to mind my manners
i'm not blind, if you're fine, i'm inclined to be a camera
even when your man or, your girl's with you
your picture's captured, now running laps in, close caption
on parchment, from a guarded heart &, a dark pen
on the park bench at the promenade
my thoughts blend, gazing at the skyline of babylon
making this short story long just to babble on
cause the L word's reserved for our kids & our moms  
& these thoughts, that become this... now that's what love is...

                                                  the notebook

 

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