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Some Sort Of Plastic Moment
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Tonight we'll be dreaming in some sort of colour,
some sort of plastic moment that we can
use to form golden memories. The singing
we'll do will remind us of all those old songs
we grew up listening to. We'll pretend that
all the books have been read and enjoyed
by a variety of disguises. The eyes might
be shut but the heart will be pounding with the
rushing red of the blood which controls it.
I'll probably add to the story of our love
as the years go by. I'll make up so many
wonderful moments that we supposedly
shared together. Neon lights flickering
on and off as the mind returns to flavoured
soup drunk from our treasured coffee cups.
Odd that we attach ourselves so tightly
to pieces of wood and plaster. Funny how
we tend to define ourselves in terms of
our address. But a home is just a place
that can burn down with the flicking of a
cigarette. The pictures on the walls
can shrivel and blacken quicker than
a plastic fork left in the sun.
I'll think often of the street we shared
for the time we were allowed. Really that
might be the truth, for we are only permitted
the level of happiness we can pay for. Lacking
the money or credit cards creates its
own state of disappointment. I wonder what
sort of world it might be if we took the
time to actually see beyond the labels?
Tonight I'll be dreaming in some sort of colour,
some sort of plastic moment that I can use
to hold onto you forever.
