The Logic of His Wings
He spent the night
Thinking about Madonna
While restless
In his bed
During many of his
Waking hours
He acted out the dreams
In his head
Of being a baseball star
A wrestler
An action hero without a face
The world was moving so
Frantically around him
He couldn’t keep
Pace
Beauty everywhere
Beauty nowhere
Beauty in the shadow
Of a pigeon
At the park
Beauty everywhere
Beauty nowhere
His beautiful house
Was falling apart
The hope of what a new day brings
The logic of his wings
Inject adrenaline into a broken heart
And fly, triumphantly
Toward a dying star
A little brown wallet
Full of grandma’s money
And a bike ride
To the candy store
A Butterfinger, a videogame magazine
Were everything he can afford
The bright colors
Of dreamlands
Constructed in cubicles
Were the brilliant backgrounds
Above the orchestra
For a middle-class American
Musical
Beauty everywhere
Beauty nowhere
Beauty in those sirens
Wailing in the
Dark
Beauty everywhere, beauty nowhere
Bartenders, construction workers and cops
Were all playing their part
The hope of what a new day brings
The logic of his wings
Inject adrenaline into a broken heart
Then fly, triumphantly
Toward a dying star
