as 21 questions played the jukebox

whether luck or fate,
the juke box spits the best tune
at first take

around a room,
under spotted light,
passed the two girls at corner windows right,
who stare beyond cell phone screens
into social phenomenon
and true boredom,
to three men,
living horizons,
blowing octobers crisp
wind out their clasped
palms
with the warmth of their back and forth,
like it mattered to eternity,

like conscious and perceptions
for how love
and lonely
happens
like intentions I,
forgotten
remember
a good heart being broken;
and still, for my heart you have spoken;
between
these tin roofed, wooded walls,
they have broken out
from the pie charts
and the bar graphs spells;
and we learn that,
to somewhere
and someone
we are all the errors margin,
our lives the hope
of defying
everything the experts say;

and were the other side
of this restaurant bench occupied,
by she I'd say let's make a break for it.
the president debates
are through,
i heard the worlds a scary place
for most,
and i'm awake to unearthing monsters;
lord knows they don't fear teleprompters,
nor could 2 trillion more
for ships and helicopters
possibly search all the right closets,
in time.

so let beyond realistics sureity,
mouth your lovers hands into the cure,
to a terrified world's need to be heard;
and over mexican and beer
we'll make cold wind out of our fears
and do so,
after all, do so,
with my breath still on your finger tips,
like three men making music
even more melodic,
than Nate Dogg & 50 cent,
or so i imagined it,
as 21 questions played the jukebox.