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