This is actually a month old…I asked a friend of mine to give me a title for a poem and she gave me this one…yeah, me too…but I did my best. She also suggested the line "If I remembered what feelings are I might be hurt " thinking (I think) that it was a hard thing to incorprate…

 

Looking down at the dirty gutter, tires slamming close

Rough and rubbing getting next to sex, next to the curb

Empty cigarette pack cellophane, that slim red line

She said

She said

If I remembered what feelings are I might be hurt

 

The car rusts from the inside out but driving is the same

Quickly parking where he can see the lights, see her ass

Wait while she walks, he whistles and fingers the bills

She said

She said

I will love you baby, I will love if you have the cash

 

Go ahead hooker, with your bad ass

Smiling, smelling of the street

She said, she said, she said a lot of things,

She said; just let me get off my feet

 

Neon heaven drains the color from her clothes

Better than bleach, better than the self righteous

The night is young but she isn’t even close

She said

She said

I have nothing in me I can use to fight this

 

She sits and sits and cries out the passenger window

Biting her palm, waiting for his words to land

He is her regular Saturday night, he is her brother

She said

She said

You can’t, you won’t, you’ll just never understand

 

Go ahead hooker, with your bad ass

Smiling, smelling of the street

She said, she said, she said a lot of things,

She said; just let me get off my feet

 

Go ahead hooker, with your bad ass

Smiling, smelling of the street

She said, she said, she said a lot of things,

She said; just let me get off my feet

 

The night keeps going like nothing has changed

And nothing has really changed both know

A swinging purse, silver skin shining neon, floating back

She said

She said

The customer’s are waiting for the midnight show

Yesterday passed without the sound

I expected

without

your notice,

without a visual indication where

it

and today parted.

 

Continued

melded, combined…

split.

 

And you

were there

but not…as well.

 

Me…

 

looking for the invisible seam

where yesterday

and today

are joined.

 

Words span across the two sides

left on their own, listing the pros

the cons

ups

downs

and you were there.

 

A new day,

new year;

same me

same

you.

 

A very

very

very

good

thing.

 

 

Was thinking last night

when sleep wasn’t in the room

the apartment

really.

Was thinking about poetry;

what it is

to me.

It is a story I think but

distilled

desiccated into a strangely

concentrated

form…a smudgy literary residue

left over from boiling out

the details;

the

nonessentials.

Like a story it has a tale

to tell

but

obviously

Without features…sometimes.

Sometimes

without rhyme, reason…and

(lots of “and” missing) bullshit.

Mostly without much

of what a story

is

but with so much more inserted

attached,

connected,

assembled…

of what the story

isn’t.

Expectation

is not the end of what once was

is not the start of what is to be

is not the…middle

Of anything.

 

Expectation is the vision

of a promise

our minds make

to our hearts.

 

Feelings and emotions and

thoughts and dreams and

a reality predicted based

on intent

and the occurrence

of those little bits of today that

survive

through..until tomorrow

where they become

the new today.

 

Expectation

is how we assemble

those bits

in anticipation

of them existing.

 

Expectation is the promise

made

that they will

exist.

 

I awake and open my eyes lying sideways on the bed

digital numbers tell things I don’t want to know

muted sounds seep under doorsills…around window frames

tell me more

things I don’t want to know but

will anyway

I remember my life; looking at it like a child looks at a new toy

unaware how to play with it, not knowing which button to push

knowing it is to be played with; I push buttons

I push and I pull tabs

slide switches and replace batteries

shake it listening for internal noise, for what makes “it” what it is

The old life, hung up in a closet

or was it simply tossed on the floor?

lost its impact, its shine, its memories and faded

the color drained by the sun of time…and now;

a new life all spic and span and…just new…untried, untested…

with different buttons,

switches

and

tabs,

different noise when shook

try it out, try it on, run in it, laugh, cry, wander the city, get it dirty, wash it off

damage it and watch it repair itself

a new life all comfy and cozy

strange fitting in places but

adapting inside

seeing newly from here to the outside world,

different, not good or bad

different

poked, prodded and pulled

I stand up from bed, from sleeping too long

digital numbers don’t tell nearly half the story

I look forward

to those things I don’t want to know and the sounds

once muted,

fuzzy and seeping through cracks in the shell of my house

I hear

and want to hear more and more and more…

…buttons,

switches,

tabs;

all await

being pushed

slid

pulled and…

a new life

awaits

as I wake up.

Beauty rides the night, a

Cloud, a sweep of air

The moon, denied its face,

To see, be seen, to share

 

Stars shed light like grains

Sand..a glittering beach

With moments spread thin

All there, but out of reach

 

I am the night, I feel it deep

Within my heart, felt beating

Felt flowing, felt within reach

A landscape wide…sweeping

 

She is the night, she is

Beauty, the moon, the stars

The moment upon which I rest

The missing time; only ours

 

Cold and dark the night unfolds

Hello to wandering eyes…and

Reaches out to embrace

The glittering of the sand

 

Beauty rides with sight and

Sound and fury; all that is lost

The past…not trust, not confidence

Innocence has been the cost

 

It has been to accept and forgive

Unlike what has come before

To breath deep the night, the waves

Reach us from a distant shore

 

Beauty rides the night, a

Cloud,

A sweep of air.

 

 

And when I open my eyes in the morning

I want to see you

Feel you with breathing near and reach across

Tug the sheet a moment, a flicker of energy

An awareness; half asleep, half knowing

A little more, expose the skin

Soft, tender seemingly flowing water-like from

Sheets white and stark

Against skin, against the shifting morning light

Filtered through leaves and trees and windows and shades and

See and hear what I’ve dreamt of

 

And when I feel your breathing next to me

The bed slowly

Rhythmically moving a millimeter up

Down

Like ocean waves rolling endless toward

The shore

Feel the bed in time with your breath, my heart

The sun sitting, expectant, waiting

For an open eye

 

And when I am almost all the way awake

I want to have you

Feel you envelope me; warm breath and wet lips

And wait and wait and wait

For the sun to slide away, to reach beyond us

And have the day

End without the need

To leave this place

You

The bed.

 

 

The skin sliding softly, palm against palm, fingers

Greeting each other, long lost friends, their hands

Touch and settle into a comfortable and

Symbiotic relationship; saying nothing but

Meaning everything.

A hand contracts slightly, a finger curls

Inward toward the other, slight friction

A small spot near the edge

Swinging a little forward

Backward

The hands grip sternly as a turn is negotiated, other people

Bumped as the sidewalk opens, the hands protective,

The empty walkway offers a wider path

A path forward, ever forward

Her smallest finger almost imperceptivity

Rhythmically

Gently

Caresses his palm

And

He knows and smiles without looking, his hand flowing

With the movement of walking, the gait matched my

Small squeezes of

His warm and contented fingers

She smiles and her hand

Squeezes

In return

The pathway forward, a smile lights her face

His eyes thank her for

Holding his

Hand.

I know that I will see her again and it will be

Soon but it’s not soon enough when gone

Is too long.

When gone might as well be

Death.

But, the fantasy flies like new year’s confetti

No I don’t mean death like “dead”…no

Like away and no feelings and no…

Her

I felt her skin, under

Searching fingertips, under

The pretense of brushing away a snow flake

Under

Her spell, her gaze, her

Skin

I know that I will see her again and it will be

Soon and it will be

Like everything all over

Like every time; the same

All over

Me

Standing  on the curb looking into endless eyes

Looking at tomorrow

I felt her skin

And I felt

Alive

No fantasy flying, no

Pretense

I am thinking I know

I will see her again

I am thinking

Of her.

I am smiling.

I am,

Finally .