Flowings of Your Everlasting Taffyman

I use to write poetry
listening to this song,
the rain had only moved me in so many directions once or twice.
and the piano notes tugged each neural paths away.
while Craig spoke in nostalgics, I reminisced about blankets and longing
but if words alone never could save us,
then maybe its time to seek salvation in something higher,
stop longing for the girls of America,
flirting with soft eyes,
spitting my white noise.

Steadily coming to the realization like Charlemagne and Holly.
that these lovely dreams -
were just the first night(?)