Beloved, who does not love me,
if I couldn’t see you across a room
I’d search you out through a window pane,
or dream of our first meeting if walls or miles
cheat my eyes.
Your breathing intimidated, as she yawns.
Before the ice of your contemplation
my humbled genius trembles.
The outline of your long browned northern body
stretches like a cat. I seek my perfect other.
That gaze inhuman,
not living
yet virginal.
I won’t find a poem today
My mind’s in racing mode
Flitting here and going there
Transporting such a load
I wish I could make it stop
Just pick a course and stay
Instead of going everywhere
Taking trips so far away
It will soon come to an end
My mind race ‘here and yon’
I can tell that this is so
Cause a headaches coming on
I can soldier through the pain
Yeah – I can gut that curse
An’ I’ll make sure when all is done
I can write some verse.
The large crow stood
on the fence, alone,
as if waiting for me
when I returned home.
Around us the angled light
of a descending sun streaked
the houses and trees,
but the crow’s black cloak
and eyes sucked light in
and didn’t let it out.
We stared at each other.
Did his presence here have import?
Crows are a symbol of wisdom
but also an omen of death.
I decided not to chance it.
You have the wrong house, I shouted.
He splayed out his onyx wings
and took heavy flight.
He may have signaled fate
or just found a place to light.
The braking screams,
18 in count.
Spinning round and round as lights go by.
I brace for impact from tangible ghosts
Time passes on—
No crunch,
No burn,
No entrapment.
I sense invisible stares.
From each surrounding seat, as they stand empty.
Survivor, they called it.
I remember each seat was overflowing with life,
now just the memories.
you say you hear it—
everything that has
even been
said spinning
one syllable
to echo
a name I long
to speak here between
earth and silence
As the crowd is leaving
liquid inertia and gravity dance
As quarter full beer cans roll
Down the artificial grass
The hippie chick posers
have dropped their patchouli incense
To support their drunken boyfriends
Stumbling towards Dad’s Mercedes Benz
A scene to be seen
Is it possible to pretend to be part of something
That, in retrospect, has really never been?
As a child
I was led to believe you were going to change the world
And you did
It’s just nothing like what you said it would be
Ken and Tim and Jack and Jerry
Are rolling in their graves
dear line cook
if what you make can be only as
great as your love, then love greater.
in fact, grate your love over this pasta,
dear, and some pepper, too,
as you are up.
and when i swallow your will
shall be my tongue in your cheeks.
and when i burp you will have
loved me thoroughly.
i had a coupon for free panties.
you had big boobs.
they jostled together constantly.
i half expected a third boob
to be born between them
any day now.
you led me to the changing rooms
and asked a beautiful young sales person
(who also had big boobs)
to fit me for a bra.
i said i knew my size
and i also knew that,
unlike some people,
my cup
did not
runneth over.
you laughed,
and so did the sales girl.
i guess it is easy to laugh
when you
actually look good
in these glorified doilies.
i said, “i’m leaving.
Walmart is good enough
for me.”
you stopped laughing.
you looked slightly ashamed.
you tried to hug me
but your hands
couldn’t
quite
reach
me.
One for mood stabilization
(save the drastic ups and downs)
One for mood elevation
(no more segmented sleep/thirty more pounds)
One to ease the jitters
One to crack my back
One to prevent ovarian cysts and male-pattern baldness
