I Think She's Free

She thinks freedom is climbing out the window
And leaving the door unlocked; or driving when
She could just walk. Screaming over speakers
Drunk, underage, at the Token Lounge. When
We talk it's in little lovers' whispers, about the
fall of the Berlin Wall or socialistic revolutions.
And she punches me before each kiss.

Now I can't say if she's really free, because we've
All got our ties to worldly lies, but I think she just
Might be. She just might be that thing that we
See in the darkness of sleep, dancing on the edge
Of what we call our lives. The flicker fading from
A newborn's eyes at the sight of toys and TV.
The silver lining of a thundercloud storming.

We've been something for some minutes and
Nothing, but I know this was meant to be. She
Ties me up and burns me in effigy. To the god
Of sweet nothing, the air in the breeze, the water
In the seas. And there's no reason why, no motives
To hide or insecurities to disguise. No reason why.
Other than she can, and can is the essence of free.