I know a version of you, you haven’t met. His eyes intensely fixed in mine, his body pensive and determined. He doesn’t search for reasons why not, he knows what he wants. His arms wrap around me like deadly lust stricken anacondas with no other choice than to take me…
You instinctively glance back at the mirror to study your reflection but it’s not there anymore. There are no poems for you, nor any school of wailing ladies swimming in receding rocky lakes of sorrow. Every part of you has been replaced, your lines rewritten, reimagined, your role re cast. A celluloid worm on the editing floor curling with cramps of joy. Our producers running the numbers one more time, the audience polls confirm, without you the show can and will go on. The B movie is over the credits roll. It’s official you aren’t here now and you weren’t there at all.
Your parents do not surprise visit you and then at the door tell you that they can’t enter your house cause it’s an abomination. Or ask you if you are doing it for the money when you come out to them.
You don’t grow up in a society where your peers…
I dispatch our ships in to the high seas of the embroidered plastic table cloths clipped to old tables on their last leg. The dripping water melon juice meets an army of seeds that know no commander in handkerchief. Our affections blind to the boundaries of that no man’s land, travel from the safe lands to the mine fields. My head hangs off of the picnic blanket like a waterfall flowing to a valley of disbelief. The inappropriate smirk on my face beckons the mercy of the bees. My protests forever silenced by your lips. I melt into the high grasses, the underbrush, the mud, the rustling trees tattooing my skin. I exhale and allow myself to get lost in this. Alas, this may at last be bliss.
Sitting across the dirty table
in this greasy derelict diner
with a grin on your face
that can only be sustained
by someone that’s building the strength
to tell me it’s over.
You start your words
and like a train rushing by
the sound shifts, the colors fade
windows fog up, my plate cracks
and the coffee turns…
The only way I might win you is if I don’t fight for you. And that is against every instinct in my body, mind and soul.
Today is no longer ours. It unravels at the seams and refuses to fit into a tidy set of twenty four hours defying the limits…