The Leonard Cohen Effect

i only think of you

when i drive at night,

with a quiet playlist playing through my radio

and i drive often

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Maybe I’m Not Normal

i don’t go out to parties,

i don’t like clubs, and i don’t like dressing up,

i bought nice jeans, but i wear white t shirts,

i’m quiet around strangers,

and there are some weekends where i just don’t get out,

i find things around the house to watch,

i try to read,

i clack at the keyboard into the wee small morning,

sometimes i worry,

that everyone else is out chasing adventures,

i have tried running after them,

but i always found the same thing,

people just hanging around talking,

and i can dig that,

i like people,

but the people i like are a rare breed,

i can’t stand the brick wall faces,

the drool on the edges of some guy’s jaw,

the clown thick makeup under some girl’s eye lids,

i worry i am missing out,

then i get out there and find nothing that was all that interesting anyway,

and i wonder,

maybe i’m not normal and i should be okay with that,

maybe i’m not healthy and i should make a bigger effort

to be out and around with these shallow people,

maybe i’m wrong for not caring about their shirts or their cars,

maybe i’m mean for not laughing at the cliche’d lines they feed each other,

maybe i’m pretentious for having read the philosophers they talk about,

knowing they only read the cliff notes,

maybe i’m better off just going to a dive bar tonight and talking to the out of work lawyers/veterans,

they applaud my choice of music on the jukebox,

they slap my back and tell me their stories,

“I can tell man, just by talking to you,

there’s not an ounce of asshole in you!”

maybe i’m older than i look,

maybe i’m just lonely and

the women my own age want something that i don’t,

maybe they want something younger,

and i want something older,

maybe i’ve always been old,

that’s fine then,

maybe i’ll visit Manhattan and walk the streets i love

on my lazy Sundays, all on my lonesome,

maybe i just wish i had someone along the ride,

maybe i’m jealous,

because my mother and father are always holding hands,

kissing cheeks,

and laughing to each other,

maybe i’m going to be 25 in a few months,

maybe i’m drunk and it’s 1:33 AM Jack and on a Sunday!

i miss my friends,

but maybe my welcome home is worn away,

maybe i’m two and a half years out of college and i don’t wanna live in New Jersey anymore,

i hate the fucking pot holes, and the highest tax rates in the country,

i hate the fucking slush weather and the smell that creeps out of the man hole covers,

maybe i haven’t been to the beach yet this summer and i’m losing track of time again,

maybe i should go quietly along the road until i get to work and stay there,

maybe i shouldn’t have incurred a student dept that will follow me until i’m 40,

maybe i should take my meds and settle down,

don’t worry, i did take them,

maybe i chose the lead role in the cage,

maybe i haven’t touched my guitar in months,

and that upsets me greatly,

because i tried tuning it today and snapped the High E,

fuck,

maybe i wasn’t made to be alone,

maybe somewhere there’s a woman with a tea cup creating a ring in the wood of her desk,

with her cat sleeping on the bed behind her,

wondering “maybe”

and then maybe i’ll run into her, or maybe one of us will die in a car crash,

and it will only ever be maybe,

or we’ll meet up for coffee, and her cat will sleep on our bed,

maybe i’ll get out there onto the highway Connecticut and i will fall in love with my job,

maybe i’ll be pretty good at this marketing stuff, and maybe i’ll be just fine,

my bills will be paid and over time i will earn enough to enjoy myself,

to keep the little things polished and comfortable,

maybe all the frustration i feel is natural,

and it will fade as i grow more confident and meticulous in my work,

maybe this is the learning curve and i am taking it quite well

for someone that is newborn to office work,

maybe i’ll be fine,

but maybe

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We Just Got Him Shaved

it’s just me and the old sheltie in the house over the next week,

he even got his creaking hips up the stairs to sit in my room with me,

we got him shaved,

the fat on his stomach

and the bumps on his neck,

and the scar on his face,

i picked him up and laid him on my bed,

he’s sleeping on the pillow,

the room smells like dog shampoo,

which is not that bad,

i think i’ll let him stay there for tonight

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The Only Thing That’ll Save Me Now

is more of that Trickster

Left-Hand

Voodoo…

In for a penny…

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If I Could

i’d probably just hangout on bus stop benches,

practicing my whistle

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…—…

crazy people are paranoid that they are secretly

surrounded by robots,

i am merely disappointed

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Rich Inner Life

it is the expense report that pins me in at night,

but books are cheap,

that’s living right? reading,

because if it wasn’t, then i’d feel like i was being cheated out of something.

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