poetry by j matthew waters

Archive for the tag “flashback”


I know it’s late
but I don’t want to go home
—I call from a payphone
to say I’m on my way

the front door light is on
collecting inquisitive insects
too numerous to count

today I could use my voice
to turn off that damn light
but back then things were fairly simple
except for killing myself
just to get inside

may two thousand twenty-three
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserve

getting down tonight

it was supposed to become easier
(as I get older)
and in some ways it has
thanks in no part
to google girls and their entourage
disguised as tiny dancers
searching for a better discotheque

out of focus for a reason
but dead set on seeing things
(as they are until the very last sunrise)
I look past the mirror ball
twinkling inside your irises
exposing newly found worlds

in my next world everyone grows
younger with each passing heartbeat
dancing (as they say)
like it’s nineteen seventy-six

how many times have you told me
not to cry when meaningful ballads
happen our way
how many times have I wanted
to be just like you
dressed in star-studded jumpsuits
and sporting sexy determination

october two thousand sixteen
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

Post Navigation

%d bloggers like this: