Underneath

Under my shirt is my skin
Under my skin is my heart
Under my heart is the caress
Of that trampoline under a starlit sky,
The breath
And heartbeat of that summer
Keeping time as we twirled through the haze
Dancers in the sun,
Music box dancers in a rhythm of certainty.
Under that is the unexpected gentleness
Of the calloused hands,
The slippery breeze, on the hammock,
In the wet grass, hiding with a flashlight
Shining playfully
On the things the dark tried to conceal
There are no secrets here.
We were poised between two worlds and
Living off the rush of the mystery,
Captivated, but we got lost
Between two worlds that summer
Under the pulse was a missed beat
A stumbled step
Like a song we had never heard before,
Louder than the ones we knew by heart.
And under that is the burn
Of that same summer sun
The softness of that room that hid the shadows
Fear taught me to create.
Under that is the voice that never faltered, faltering
The eyes that never cried, crying
And under that is a whole mess of years
Of singing cards and footsteps on the creaky stairs late at night
And wondering if maybe
Those ghosts that stalk your mind
And stay with you,
Are really yours to keep anyway.
And under that is reality.
Laughter
Floating up to the rafters of
That universal ceiling under which
Life shines brilliantly.
And a few dusty miles away
Tears
Running in little black rivers of the mascara
She forgets why she cared about
As the sun fades from a life,
And the light from the eyes
Of those with the clammy hands
Shaking, shaking, shaking
And the car ride home and the guilt
Like the deep black cloak
Of the man we imagine
Taking away the things that we love,
That rides on the overwhelming waves
Of other people’s pain,
Tears that can’t change a thing
Laughter that lost its charm
And under that
Are questions.
But my voice is
Shaking, shaking, shaking
And the ground is
Shaking
Too
They say I’ll never understand,
But the songs we sing alone
Through empty, littered streets
In the convenience store glow
Of flickering street lamps at 2 A.M.,
Are set to the same music.
The spotlight is warm, then it’s blinding
The dancers are in tears, and they’re laughing
They’re lost
But the music plays on