I had to put it somewhere.

Ode to a broken jar of jam
Current mood: sleepy

I whisper your name in the darkenss and the light
for fear that you might hear me in the silence
shout
it from the mountain tops of Rio
(if he wanna rock he rocks)
and proclaim in through the watery streets of a distant Italy
(if he wanna roll he rolls)
foregoing the formalities
(fancy drinks and fifty dollar cover charge)
and skipping steps like children in the Spanish piazza a penny's throw from Trevi.
(disregard...)
A common theme in a silent heart's dream
(if he wanna stay he stays)
an indwelling central line
(if he wanna go he goes)
a differential diagnosis
(he can roll with the punches as long as he feels like he's in control)
without the benefit of a Bayesian analysis.
(he doesn't care how he gets there as long as he gets somewhere he knows)


I can feel you here on the tip of my tongue
just a
touch
out of reach
if the world could stretch
for a second
with hands out stretched
(every word you say)
and eyes tight shut
(I think I should write down)
I can feel the edges of the frame shift.

and I could feel the edges of your shoulders if my hand didn't
retract (in fear)
as though on instinct
a spinal reflex without the benefit of a brain's judgement (or lack there of).

I try again.
(and living large...)
The silence is maintained
(disregard...)
and as the fuzzy frame comes into view
I
could
feel
your
hand if I reached--

But a pause
(if she wanna rock she rocks)
before the reflex
(if she wanna roll she rolls)
as I slowly regard
(she can roll with the punches as long as she feels like she's in control)
the outline
(she doesn't care how she gets there as long as she gets somewhere she knows)
and as the image forms
(I'm dressed all in blue)
and as the afferent consults the brain
(and I'm remembering you)
a thought occurs
(and the dress you wore when you broke my heart)
what
(tell me)
if
(quando)
I
(quando)
fall
(quando)


Italics:
Eric Hutchinson
Joshua Radin and Schuyler Fisk
Rhett Miller
Michael Buble