On The Ledge




To be smart would be not too think about love
To stand on the ledge before all that silver
Next to the men who know what they want
Who can smell the flesh and stand the adrenalin
The zeroes and the nothings of living for now
The bait, all those carrots, all those sticks
Do you have the skill to give it a run?
The breathing and the greetings coming from the holes
Would it kill you to walk around the garden?
To find what splendid scents live amongst the crevices
Is it a shot that you give or an explosion?
Is it charity that you take or give?
And the cars drive past politely
Back and forth from suburbia knowing all to well
What is happening in the optimistic square
And the objections are flogged horses
Dead horses that are stuck to metal gates
Politely directing to the next square
The next circle for the flies to be squashed against
The nighttime is dangerous for the minds
You may never be able to think about love again
Let alone prove it exists in your atmosphere
With any innocence and security you have left
Lost amongst the foliage and the ferns
The community will look after you though
Take you in and make sure you get lost
Amongst the cigarette smoke and dull lighting
The sliding doors and third story troughs
What do you want though? Is it Love, comfort, security?
Is it standing on the ledge in front of the silver?
Being a man trading innocence for experience?
But what if you caught your reflection in the piss?
Would you be happy with what you saw?
How much ego do you have, and how much heart?
A question you have to ask yourself
When you are being smart and not thinking about love

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