Posts for June 18, 2021 (page 2)

It’s been a week

without you

and every message

makes my heart leap.

You still call me baby doll.

It still warms my heart.

And the wait feels interminable.

But I know you’re worth waiting for,

that I would stand here forever

for another kiss.

I love the way you see me.

I love the way you speak to me.

And I wish I was yours.

I’ll probably never meet you.

You promised to never

send a picture.

And yet the words

you write to me

make me melt.

The story

we are writing together

is so passionate

and beautiful.

I envy my avatar.

I wish

you would do to me

all the things you write about.

Make love to me

the way I dream about.

I love to fantasize

about the night

that will never be.

You’re so good on paper.

I lap up every word,

savor every sentence.

I want more of you.

I want you in my life.

It’s been a week

and I’m dripping melancholy

everywhere I go.

And I want to tell you,

want to show you this poem,

but I don’t want to scare you off

because I’ll take

whatever scrap of you

I can get.

I’ll kiss you

with my words

and dream of you

at night.

Carry you in my heart.

This uncertain love.

I send you hugs

and kisses

and good nights,

all just baiting you

to call me

by my pet name.

You’re my favorite secret.

First and last thought

of the day.

You’re my muse

but just always

out of reach.

It’s been a week

and I can’t tell my friends

I’m addicted

to this romantic stranger.

That someone I don’t

even know

knows how

to make me gasp

with pleasure

and desire.

Each day is an etenity

as I wait to hear from you.

And forever

has only been a week.

Under a dome
of everywhere lightning
surround sound bowling
alley boomers and the thin
windblown wail of sirens
sounding the call
to seek safe shelter

mine is a glider under
a living thatch of wisteria
a TV ALERT sent me straight
outside where I sit in the midst
of storms but vaccinated
and only now a bit of rain
and only now words start to blur

             Shivering sorrow
cracks granite sky; tree-bending           
             wind forges a hinge.  

she yelled to come in
the screen door banging
in finality with her demand
but how could I?
I was out with the stars
city’s summer haze
clogging the night sky
I could not come in
to the bright filtered light
of indoors
where my feet
are nailed into the hardwood boards
hammered in by the worries for tomorrow
because out here
beneath the droplets of galaxy matter
I fly
watched by so many eyes

night settles like a cooling ember—-
the lingering heat & humidity
hosting fireflies & the chips
of crickets

the sky is still blue,
but in moments, it’ll be dark
& the porch lights will come on,
ushering those who linger indoors

Apparently some Irish Setter
dug a mediocre hole out back.
En voila: the chewed up pelt
and well knawed little primate’s
bones are spread out
on the parquet floor,
a late beloved pet.

Strychnine’s what it was
that done the other victim in,
the late regrettable wife.

^{Lead me, my mother, my soil,}

^{my sun. Lead me to my forever} 

^{home, soil beneath my feet.}

^{You tempt me, mother, before I labor.}  

^{I live to worship you in the cool}

^{of the morning, before the leaves wilt.} 

Ever had a day that didn’t go well?

Country music is there for you even then–
especially then. The whole world could be
on fire, but some country musician had it
worse and they’re there to commiserate, to let you
cry hot mad tears or to drive another nail
in your coffin or to walk the floors 
back and forth. Country music says,
let the hurt out and come back singing
just a little bit later on. You’ll manage.

And it’s true. It’s not going to rain forever. 
Sometimes things just feel that way.

Friday evening and Miles Davis kind of blue
wind is blowing as if there might be a storm
summer is offering her entirety
even though she won’t officially arrive until Sunday
I’m thankful, for once, for what lies ahead
the sun shining, through a tree, is the biggest promise of all
why don’t we say, “I’m yellow”, like we refer to being blue? 
happy but for a moment before the world unforgivingly switches the color scheme again

I’m sitting in my car,
all dressed up,
waiting for friends 
that will never come.

The excitement over it all
feels so far away now-
almost as if it wasn’t even real.

The new outfit I bought
just for this
doesn’t feel nearly as cute
as it once did.

I check my watch again,
take one last glance 
just to see if it was all a trick,
just in case someone showed up.

But it’s still just me,
so I sigh and turn around,
thinking to myself
“Maybe next time,”
even though I already know
how next time will go.