fugitive432 Poetry (23)

To say I wish I could
bring you into my life
here somehow, into these
days where I warm my hands
on the soft coat of a
grandmother's lapdog,
is to deny a place
to the blanket of sadness
that wants to
marry me.














...

So busy covering ourselves up
in threads
The pleasure of two parallel
stripping sexes








...

Maybe there are times I didn't tell you things,
like of the desolate far away place in my body
that I escaped from to find you...
the cold intangible spot that draws on a string
from my insides, thinning me out as from
an ever more threadlike tether
so that I'm as close to disappearing as I can be
as a person deeply inlove.

If only these holidays could be wiped off the face of the earth:

Christmas
Valentine's Day
Easter
Thanksgiving
You name it

What a wonderful world this would be!

Then, instead of feeling like I'm being
wiped off the earth
I could be
HAP-PY!

He has a collection of girlfriends he's turning on and off at will

He's got a heart of gold that he just cannot keep still

He sympathizes with the wandering wistful waif

And brings her oranges and pears and unlost faith

He holds her chin up so she'll know just what to do

He makes her melodies made of words from Timbuktu

He takes away her inhibitions with no smile

And if you wait he will be right back in a longish sort of painful kind of while










...

There's a bleach stain on my favorite pants
a splash of almost indiscernible light along the shadowy folds
and beside it, with her tail wagging and ears perked
my four legged friend watches all round

I don't have to worry about hair
I've cut mine short and my look is effortlessly clean
and I wear my clothes well though they're of
the Salvation Army caliber

We form a grandmother's shadow
as she delves into stall after stall
exchanging vocal fragrances
with the vendors and their pride
Everything strikes her as expensive today
even though the "two (sweet) potatoes for five dollars" wieghed a kilo
and the apples would last in the cellar till after Christmas
and beyond

And for some reason the rain stopped a quarter hour ago
and the sun came out and spelled summer thoughts
and it didn't start to rain again until we got home and
finished reloading the pantry
and the dog curled up beside me
as I made myself comfortable with my cup of reheated coffee

I think tonight there will be apple pie...

Today I told my dog
"You've gotta make something
of me. What are you going to do?"
She just huffed and hawed.
We cuddle in perfect synchronicity
but when it comes to the rest of life
she'll pull one way while I
pull the other or just
fall over.







...

[previous poem removed]


When it’s minus 40 here it’s also minus 40 there
It is somewhat reassuring and so I begin to care
To care and think that there is hope
For between these differences to memorize and cope

When it’s minus 30 here it’s minus 22 over there
And still chilling at minus 20 tis now 4 minus over there
But strangely when I’m still in the belows at number 10
You leap way past the zero to 4 above + 10 ten (14)

Minus 5 here is when you’re at 23
When I’m merely at minus 2 it’s above 28 for you
At my minus 1 you hit 30 and then some
And my round zero is when you’re at unround 32
(by the way that’s freezing point)

It may not yet be spring but above zero starts to hint
at plus one things start to melt
when does that happen for you?
I know it’s above 30
It’s even above 32
Ok it’s 33
two decimals from 34
Plus two here is just over 35 for you

There's a fresh stew waiting for you
won't you have a bite
it's made of all the things you wouldn't say
it's made of all the things you wouldn't do
your essence of apathy through and through
Instead of reaching out to me to stop my spinning
you watched and strove to calculate a wise reply
the reply did not come
neither in five minutes
nor ten
and I cooked and boiled and vaporized
over and over again
When all you needed to say was
"You silly fool, come here!"
and take me in and hold me close
and trample out my fear
with a squeeze that would penetrate and very nearly suffocate
until at last you made me laugh
with near tears of relief
and rocked me in those sweet sweet arms

Oh where are you my theif?

It was just
a burning building
my sweetheart.
We are still here.
Darling, we have still got each other,
don't you see?

Brushing his forehead as he
sweats in his sleep.

Sharing mussels can be whiskey

Byron with your stainless steel canoe paddle
tempering the thick waters with a stir
with fat dribbling over the belt at your waist
as the stars in your circuitry play symphonies

While you look away
to feed the thousands every day
don't forget that you are what you are
simply because you can't have me