a night at the museum

                                  
Melanie told me how bones are nothing but a waste of space
how a body is the silent embrace of man around his soul
so I said to her, "I guess. But a dinosaur's still dead."

Melanie does not exist except as a trees in jungle far away
except as the memory of a million feet running along the fold
so when I say to her, "I guess." She's becomes a dinosaur's head.

Melanie hates the way I break bones of words right in her face
the way I fillet the notions of illogical oceans in a porcelain bowl
so I say to her, "I guess it's bad but the dinosaur's still dead."

Melanie told me how sand is nothing but an endless waste
how a kiss is  the same, but still we think it'll make us whole
so I said to her, "I guess." and
watched her believe what the dinosaur just said.

Melanie does not exist except as a fossil of some heart's disgrace
except as the dust's cold rage on display for dear dear folks untold
so I said to her, "I guess. But the dinosaur's still dead."