05 March, 2007

or nearly so



remember
that day?

you promised yourself to me, i think
[in an autumn breeze]
[in my tempest of a bed]
[in the front seats of your car]

& said
"forever"

my reply:
"or nearly
so"

i prayed so hard my fingers
turned to sandpaper
that i would never tell you

i told you
so

time turned to dust
between my clasped hands

i told you
so

you left your shirt here you know
I pretend to push back curtains
into a play
for a theatre which engulfs this
respectably gaudy house

and that you mean for your character
to come back for it---
holding me in the process

because my eyes burn bright red
and crack with the giveaway puffy misery
of something.
gone.

i never acquired your taste for chemicals
but if only the sporadic curly
remnants of a haircut
didn't give me such a high

& the leftover woodchip smell
of your clothes didn't calm my nerves

i can't trick myself into thinking you that you're here
because
every movement made with your shoulders

i can recall

drinking too little
to be able to call you and say
iwanttospendtherestofmylifewithyou

in my intoxicated world
life is going to be perfect
your daughter will be a hero
and I shall hold your hand backstage
while she lights up the earth in the Performance of Living

the Performance
which will linger in both our eyes.

& exchange air through our lips.

& intertwine our fingers.

1 comment:

ksweets said...

i wish i could use words like you
you paint such beautiful(if sad)
portraits of your soul