Precious

diamonds.jpg

She cried during Star Wars
and he laughed at her
which made her cry more
turning to lay her cheek
against the cool glass
raindrops on the window
like diamonds

‘Isn’t it precious,’ she thought
lighting a cigarette
and hearing him cough
from across the room
but he’d never tell her to stop
crazy about her grumpy moods
in love with how she exhaled

“Maybe we should get away,” he said
getting up and walking over
kneeling at her feet, and
wrapping his arms about her legs
hearing her reply how she liked
things the way they were, and
feeling her fingers in his hair

Do we have an accord?

I am in the kitchen writing out my life.
Chopin is in the living room, urging me not to quit.
The sadness (over breakfast) and a hurried car ride-
heavy and burdensome.

I don’t care (I said) because of course
I care more than life itself-
but if I have to give up my life
in the process (I don’t care) .

Then what is the purpose of living
this strangling, overarching plot
that no one would buy
is poking at my last nerve.

So it is like this. That you will
treat me kindly in the future
and I will continue to write my life.
This is the contract I bid you sign.

Cool wind (with apology)

blackbird

 

When the winds shift
next day after a storm
a cool wind (with apology)
I can smell you from over the water
please take me home
keep my feet on solid ground

There is no guarantee
that the dirt won’t shift
and all this we built might crumble to bits
but I am finding it hard to trust the breeze
flighty and self-centered

You make a fool of me
my dignity lost in the air
debris caught up and flying about
with your smell
the woods and rain that you live in

feeding my thoughts each day
waiting for them to propagate
watching for the moment
when seed becomes brain-child
when the scent of you and the juniper
are impossible to resist

 

 

bus out of town

I talk too much
and get beat down
with silence
a foolish pollyanna
a sucker for a kind word

from someone who can’t be bothered
with the emotional side of things
some women
are built for speed-
I was built for empathy

all fine and good at 20
with big plans
idealism anyone-
certain it would pan out
at some point

but giving up feels good
at this moment
forgetting dreams-
I can’t give you something
you won’t take

and you can’t accept what you see
as no more than a token
the love it represented
beat up and taking the bus
to warmer climates

Running

Wrapped in brown paper
they sent me off
and away-
I could not see
when I flew over
your house
waving
or the ocean
or the park

It was too dark
but I smelled you there
you call it nonsense
voodoo
a trick-
baby-
like animals
I could sense you
anywhere

Even out of sight
of those wild
eyes of yours
hypnotizing me
into slumber for
years
not seeing anyone
but you-
was that
trick or treat

Always me on top
you managed to tie me
to you- even with
your ankles shackled
my demands
usurped
by your terms-
anarchy

An uprising
of the most personal
and nothing
could keep me from you
giving up sustenance
maybe my life
until I cut loose
running

What was to be done
about that double bond-
I ran you
you ran
circles about me
separated only
by flesh ripping
hearts breaking

the (our) last time

 

I thought you were there
then could not find you
twisting around to reach for you
(suddenly) feeling very alone
in cool-accusing winds from the lake

your hands nearly frozen
from all the dips in the sea
that great ocean of deceit but
(I blame me) for staying for being
so addicted to (us and) you and me

I looked behind me and beside me
(reading and re-reading your mail)
with the single intent of smearing
my lipstick over all your body
until they drove you to the ER

when I finally find you
they will be so sure
that you are bleeding
and you are-you know
bleeding (me)
you are bleeding me

double-edged affair

text:

are we close?
are we tight-
is the big red bow
topping off this affair
so very impressive, do you say-

isn’t it grand to walk hand in hand
around battery park
to hold your head and hair for you
when the ferry makes you sick
isn’t it something out of this world
to know what I am thinking and
to finish your sentences- ain’t it great

how this double-edged sword nicks us
each time we rub elbows
but we never feel it
having the nerve to be surprised
when blood rolls down our hands
give me another word for how
two hearts feel they beat as one
a snare drum heading up a parade down main street
that they all can see and hear

don’t they talk, don’t they wish us well
already seeing our future
as parents and owner
of acres of whitewashed fence
isn’t it grand
leaning and knowing
it is safe to sleep away the hours
the night turning into daybreak
a thief of all our good sense

in a pile on the sofa
your whiskers against my forehead
Bogey passing the hours
on a continuous loop on the screen
his voice echoing in the high ceiling of your loft
saying “I lived a few weeks while you loved me”
and all the while we eat up time
and no one tells us it will not last

a secret code in the club
we don’t talk about intimacy-
we only talk about puppy love
the stuff that daydreams are made of
and no one tells you
that they see the end coming
except afterwards
when you cry in your beer

(that will) leave a mark

leave-a-mark.jpg

he was kind and soft
and said the right words
had a tattoo he said
on his right shoulder
and every other Sunday
he visited his aging granny

I doubted that he could
take on the world
and every time I watched him
drop a name
I got less and less sure
we’d make it past 1st base

we continued down the path
we’d set off onto
fog in places
slip-n-slides on obscure ramps
depositing us
into the mire of expectations

were we not clever
beating the doubters
coming down to fault
stalwart in our apologies
and I forgave him profusely
but I do not miss him, still