the fresh smoky fire of a newly-lit candle
and the heart opens to the possibility of something new
i know what i've got is a foot and a sandal
talking to motherly-love cynics about a shoe

the post-it notes of my adolescence pave memory lanes
like small-town newspaper headlines about unfinished freudian construction projects
amidst the today of aches and pains
the eye-lids are guillotines and the non-existent confessions are closely-watched facts