it was a meaningful release of anger
there was little courage
in what we did and little room
left for apologies... there was no
back-slapping laughter for us
and no one to mediate those differences
we could no longer tolerate... it was an
experience non-repeatable,
non-refundable without deposits;
it was something to behold
if one could learn from all those
thing we did wrong or about which
we no longer gave a shit...
it was an appetite worth feeding
with crumbs of each other's passion
it was to have been mutual
with benefits and the like...
not the commonplace, but it just
wasn't one of those trips that
you could charge full fair... it was
a memory better left buried
better left forgotten and abandoned.
2.
you heard me crying inside
and I knew we would
be come lovers... a gentleness
surrounded the enticing web
left for each other... an emotional
rush heated one cooled us
simultaneously... I heard you
crying because of our attraction
and comforted you with my
understanding... neither ran...
we could not escape being the victim
it was a day unlike any other day
yet we knew the costs and the
outcomes and still chose to remain.
out there...
somewhere...
it calls...
like a boy scout summer camp
when morse code was taught,
and we learned what we could
and again in the military
except this time for keeps
for much more than just ourselves;
my life flickers like camp fires
glowing but dying embers
and wonder if it's all simply
another ghost story spoken
in low muted monotones;
when courage could be found in
any dictionary and on any friday
night with the boys under the bridge,
bought and paid for and caught
in an instant with reflected
light at the end of a blade
and human juice wiped clean
on the thighs of our levis...
was it courage or stupidity?
4.
and we wondered not long running
tossing as we ran our chains
zip-guns and knives (some called shivs)
from the flashing red lights, like the
flickering embers it seemed
rekindling a memory that should
have been left with the dead
bodies under the bridge...
left with the dead
a keen reminder of life before fifteen
and the nineteen year old's had
their own horrors to live...
we could have been but weren't
we could have been but weren't
and we learned our code well
and we listened to stories
and were mesmerize by the fire
and slowly were able to forget
everything until now...
out there,,,
somewhere...
it found me...
5.
free from all the sights and sounds and
clutter, he lays outstretched on the bed,
hands behind his head, elbows pointing away,
legs crossed at the ankles, eyes open to a
glazed look where nothing matters...
and he wonders if God would approve of
sky diving or if the very religious could
ever be unfaithful, if love is only for sinners...
all the questions that border on religious
ambiguities... hours pass from reality and
into nothingness... and he looks at birds
as if they shouldn't fly and he looks at
teenagers as if they shouldn't die and he
feels too often that his cares and cries
go unheard... when all he wants is someone
to love him back so he won't waste his
days just lying around looking up at the sky.
6.
can you read the hurt my heart has felt?
can you see the words written from
all my sensations of pain?
can you hear what hasn't been said?
can you feel my longing for you and
taste all the desires I suppress?
7.
our lives are so routine and
common that we're only supposed
to fall in love with those who are
not married... has life become
that shallow for everyone?
where is it written that love is
constrained on paper vows?
so our love is not real and
therefore means nothing,
non existent feelings...
without purpose...
without morality...
all because we love someone
who we should not love.
8.
if the mail goes out today (Friday)
will you get it Tuesday?
If it wasn't Christmas you'd
get it Monday but you're closed
so Tuesday will have to do.
your anger lives on a footstool
beside the kitchen sink,
it elevates your suspicions
and distrust... it keeps you
on guard and safe...
and you are careful and ready
re-aligning those forces that allow
you to feel and care, hoping
that more justification to
sustain your anger will be found;
today or tomorrow
or net year... it does not matter
because it will eventually be there.
10.
without the warmth of love
we are lifeless creatures,
doomed to the perils of loneliness
and what's worse is thinking
you have loved when you have not
or staying without love when
it could have easily been found.
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