Suite Poetry

We the infatuated undertow
Born inside the curve's straight line
Cracked keys somehow finding the beautiful black
White noise in outer space hands
It's difficult to explain ourselves
I see you, I hear you
Speaking in the language of angels
The luxury of the double tongue
Magic water people, a memory
A turn of your head, finds a smile
Right above the water
Just a few feet to find breath, tar, wood, a shore
A safe place to build music, from tears
The entire world inside one face
Nice to meet you, again
We keep meeting our past
We keep running into our reflection
Introductions are our drowning exit
And we don't teach our children to swim
This is above sea level
I see you, I hear you
Coming up for air, adjusting the headphones
Finding your tribe, a quick "What up though?"
A quiet corner exchange, testimony is a
"Yes yes y'all", coded Hellos
Motor city steel, still
There are flowers growing
From inside this empty
Craw-fish voodoo and our Father's wishes made this be
This bottled spirit, this bread
Never broke in, fed our families
On the rocks
Hand clap sounds, rim shot, ice stories, drinking sugar cane, Detroit rain
Hits your forehead, finds your neck
When there is nothing left
We the rooftop deck, the cross into, the ever after rail road, the river of crystal currents, the solo walk to heaven, the dive hat, the master class, the vinyl moon lighting up the sky
This room is a constellation of notes and clocks
The 4AM door knock
It never leaves your body
Simplicity is so complex
Just swim towards the compass
Find your way to corner store profits
The suite is always waiting
No keys necessary just slide your delicate fingers across my rib-cage
Push your head above that wave
Tilt it back slowly
With the cool too real to be magic
Show them your colours, your majesty, your honesty, your fearlessness, your Headnod
Then keep going, til they can't find your sound in this atmosphere
No more
No more