For The Dandelions

I could be back in Chi-Town
drunk on the red line, but there wasn't much to say
past Monday night, once the poetry was gone.

We both knew this city was never for me.

I came back to you once with nothing
but some bones and a broken heart, and learned
my shoulders weren't big enough

to carry you either.

I was half-way out the moment I stepped back ito your life.  
I was always somewhere far away from there
on some moutain the conquistadors forgot about,

dreamin the real realdreams.

It doesn't take much for me to be done with anything,
just because you knew me doesn't mean you knew me,

and all that crap about
"that time..."
or
"that place..."
is conjecture.

There is no line between the truth
and the sincere things I conjure up.

I've been many things, but you only know
what I've told you.

I never really needed any of it
but that was never the point.