1. Lisa…how could I even begin to try?
To say I could describe you is a bold-face lie.
In this Autumn space-time that passes us by…
“Lisa” disperses like clouds in the rusty sky.
Lisa moves about the valley of the sun.
L-boogie is leaving nothing undone.
Off with the sound of the marathon gun.
Is it only 26 miles that she plans to run?
She figures me out in a matter of a few hours.
Asks me about the Trinity and Higher Powers.
Tore me down like the fall of the Twin Towers.
Meanwhile her eyes sparkle like meteor showers.
Lisa finds peace underneath the ocean waves.
Takes no medicine because only her mind saves.
Yet hides her past like buffalo drawings in caves.
And owes the man like the rest of the axia slaves.
Was it Oklahoma! Or just the law of the land?
Well… I certainly didn’t have this planned.
I told her of my summers in Costa Rica sand.
She just recently removed a ring from her hand.
Something about Lisa is hard to explain.
You want to feel her joy and exalt her pain.
Shakes when she’s hungry and loves desert rain.
So if Lisa is lost then nothing is really gained.
In essence then… she is a perfectionist.
She is above and I am a conceptualist.
But I want to see her again...I can’t resist.
“No Lisa…I’ll pick up the tab…I insist.”
Said she has no idea what she wants to do.
A perfectionist rarely does…to that she is true.
“Anything” is the answer and I think she knew.
She’s 22 stories up and she admires the view.
At her desk she runs her fingers through her hair.
Pretends not to expose herself…and not to care.
Has no direction…but continues to prepare.
Is “Lisa” a pauper…or is she a millionaire?
There is pain somewhere in her multicolor eyes.
And I sense the pain in her hidden Lisa sighs.
Sometimes I feel like her smile is a disguise.
When does “Lisa” sleep and when does she rise?
We sat on horseback and rode into the stars.
Hidden with our words were our biopsy scars.
Fading into the night like old Spanish guitars.
We felt closer to earth…earth felt closer to mars.
But now… Lisa seems like the satellite.
And she spins around me day and night.
Some days seem in earnest and some in spite.
She has her celestial orbit down just right.
See…Lisa can observe and then disappear…
Taking your last words and every subtle fear.
She moves to somewhere else on this sphere.
Through space-time her eye sheds not a tear.
So I keep my mouth shut and my mind free.
There can’t be a feeling between Lisa and me.
Art museum…was she as “Undecided” as me?
When she sees Monet, does she see what I see?
At the museum her shoulder graced mine.
It was as if angels had lowered a surreal sign.
I wonder if she too felt the shiver in her spine.
But this is surrealism; where a line is not a line.
Before I could add up the religion and math.
September came with Katrina’s unduly wrath.
Humanity clung lifelessly to the beaten path.
I feared nothing would remain in the aftermath.
I waited for a sign that she felt something inside.
But like the poor in New Orleans this soon died.
L-Boogie ran out with the full moon and the tide.
22 floors down…such a difficult elevator ride.
So I ignored Lisa as best as I thought I could.
I couldn’t let her go although I knew I should.
Killed me with kindness and I knew she would.
I guess she’ll never know where I really stood
Thus with the wrath of September I still strain.
I guess I’ll never know an ounce of Lisa’s pain.
October will come with the fall of dying rain…
Our moments will have died in time and in vain.
L-Boogie will be off into a life of her own.
Is it Fate or Chance or will it be left unknown?
Is this heartache, restfulness, or am I just alone?
Is it Lisa or a life lost that chills me to the bone?
Fall is the time to harvest my ultimate plan.
Fall is not the time to wonder who is Lisa’s man.
Fall into the future of time and I most surely can.
Fall from Lisa and the marathon we almost ran.
22. Autumn will spiral into winter and spring.
Bears will hibernate…then songbirds will sing.
Who knows what our distant lifetimes will bring.
Lisa...queen of all hearts…me the forgotten king.