damp hair in
mirror,
fog
from mouth
hot as dragon’s
song
then gone,
like sticky
dream–
love how you fill a room
with steam
shadow work
send out the invites
to the clown
fight-
won’t be watching
that show,
for
reasons
undisclosed..
i must decline,
though you’ve offered
front row,
and cheap
wine.
hard not to preach
when tired
minded
and loaded with nights of
non purpose,
full of sleepless,
in search of
respite
only to find it
in bite sized amounts,
better i let these
days go,
than keep
count.
said
you loved me,
i called that
bluff,
you just blushed
and gushed
more sweet
stuff,
said i loved
you,
and turned
away
as though it
was..
so hard to
say.
we climbed vast
heights
to lower our
eyes
the world below,
beheld,
still
wishing
to find ourselves
and the
truth,
suspended over
worries we
knew.
we crossed once
in heavy
rain-
you hailed a
taxi,
i waved in
vain,
we passed again when
skies were
clear,
you met true
love,
while i shed
tears-
until years
later
you reappeared
to ask..
“haven’t i seen your
face ’round
here?”
(at last!)
avoiding debates
i once started
to avoid being seen
as less smart,
to avoid being judged
at a table
sorely lacking
in heart.
wandered far
and wide
until all looked
foreign,
then sat and waited
for something
uncommon..
to
happen–
nestled into
stump of
tree,
when passer by
paused
to observe
me.
resting on tin
roof,
transfixed by
perfect
view
of
all my eyes
reach,
scanning skyline
for distant
beach,
to wade through
in mind,
knee deep in
figment
tides,
till cool enough
to head
inside.
i find it hard
to focus
through your lip
movements,
just being
honest,
could watch you
speak for
hours
and
catch enough
in your
tone
to
affirm you’re
not alone.
hands in the garden 
You must be logged in to post a comment.