ACHE

Beginning
End.

AFTER SEVEN DAYS OF ORBITING YOU

i.

You and your fragile, broken heart
Call me
A beacon in my endless night.
One fleeting glance
Caught me unaware
Cemented my devotion
Catalyst for my silly yearning
Heartfelt seriousness
Immense care.

The endless boots
Compelling stockings
Classy style and stylish cap
Launch a million dreams
That no small feat of mesmerizing foolishness
Can fulfill.
To find me in your sphere
An odd
Complex
And silly joke
I would not trade for all the green tea in China.
That you would ever find something in me
Worthy of your delicious
Germanic upper lip,
Cascading hair
Luminous in the light of another barroom
The easy grace and subtle humor of your hips
Your waist
Your gentle hands on my arm
And
Again those eyes
Which disarm me of any "game"
Every time they smile into mine
-- a mystery no soothsayer
Can decipher.
Just blessed
I guess
I
am
Indeed.

ii.

One
Fleeting
Glance
As I locked into those eyes
As you walked purposefully
Down
The aisle towards your seat --
End of intermission
Start of a new chapter.

It had been decades
Since a lightning bolt
Caught me
Dead center.
Eons since this age old
Heart of mine
Screamed so loudly out at me,
“Pay attention YOU!!!
Do not take one more step
Without really seeing
The blessing before you.”

How can I be so bold as to want so much so quickly
To presume so much connection
From such a fragile heart
When my own has been so empty for so long?
Just when I thought life was just a trick of the light
Done with mirrors
Fun house deception
Gone batty
In the dead of night,
Just when I thought I'd filled the hole
With myriad sweet sensations
Songs of bliss
Keys of life
Women of loving tenderness
And fiery surprise...

...here you are
Showing me signs of redemption
When all you see from your end is pain.
If you only knew what you have given me
That your breath be mine
my nightly wish
That our eyes stay focused
Every minute, my prayer...
That I am not a fool
And don’t presume your resonant youth
Divine presence
And ravenous beauty could be anything
I’d be worthy of.
But, a man can dream,
My how this man can do nothing but.

iii.

So I keep my distance
Respecting your pain
While wanting nothing but to cure you
Enticing your time away from all comers
Wanting only to enchant you
Wishing I could be just the very thing that you need
In just this one moment
And
Then
Again
In the next.

iv.

And what is
Is
And what will be
Will be.
I can do nothing more
Than wish I could break through
The armor
Of distraction
Of iPhones
Ex-lovers
And timelines
Preconceptions
Of cockblockers
And last calls
To just tell you
Thanks
For making
This one man
Feel
At least
While locked in your gaze
One
Glimmer more
Important
And sexy
And worthy
For at least this very
Short
And beautiful
Moment in time.

-- January 15, 2010 - spontaneous heart writing, 3:54am

The Silent Treatment

so
that's it, huh.
everything is dust.
smiles, rusty
slowly curl at the corners
like old newspaper
holding tightly to yesterday's news
as if to re-read the stories
the names
the crime scenes
the box scores
isn't worth the effort.
as if nostalgia
memory
happiness
incoherent sonnets
dedicated
inspired
and informed
by your very breathing of this air
aren't worth their weight in ink.
what was I thinking?
how could I have thought that even
without the passion
the turmoil
the stifling, steaminess
the liberating thoughtfulness
the slow-motion crawl
of time's winking giggle
without the naivety
the blinders
the one-liners
the stone pillars
the telephones, journals,
the soft-pedaled flashing eyes
the little eveyday choices
what to wear, see, say, do, touch, smell, breath, live;
without the flagship "Insanity"
on which I refuse to hang my rain drenched sails
still floating offshore
how could I have thought that
by becoming reasonable, rational, non-confrontational, passive,
unassumingly respectful of the sanctity of your position, acceptant of my fate
the cards dealt to me, the games and argumentary inner turmoil
seized and dealt with and worked on and mulled over and observed and
discussed and set aside and learned from
how could I have thought that that might reassure you
that I would not be some nemesis
some overwrought loser cowering sheepishly in your misunderstood shadow
that life does go on
that sometimes things just are
that it's all right to just sit and watch the wheels spin sometimes
how could I have thought that your memory would be as selective
as your willingness to just look me in the eye
not like you look at a car speeding toward you
a deadline careening your way
a nearly spent hurricane crushed into a heavy breeze
already blown past
spitting nothing but shade upon your coveted sunsplashed earth,
not the way you crinkle your eyes
at a taste gone sour
a light too bright
a thought too painful
but as you look at a photo from the past
a vacation you took when you were a kid
the beaches, the bee stings,
the postcards, the interminable car ride
the laughter always louder than the tears\
"Smiling uses fewer muscles than frowning."

am I that big of an ogre
a dangerous
ranting fool?
am I not just a sponge of emotion?
a bucket of intensity
a spill of overcooked sensitivity?
oh, how silly of me to finally ignore you
you who would never take the plunge into forgiveness
the dive into sustained civility
the break with your fractured mirror
of my selfishness
my failure
my opaque rose-colored glasses.
how could I have thought that
we could
still be
friends.

what was I thinking?
that you cared
that you understood
that for a glimmer of an instant
what happens to my heart and soul and mind
strikes a tiny note of compassion
that the way you judge a person's humanity
is somehow weighed in relation to the depth of their feeling
their struggle and desire to overcome their demons
their tendency to offer of their hearts and time and ears
to you when you are needy.
so I guess I either don't measure up
or you could give a fuck.
just something else I must accept.
I ask for nothing
no secrets
no revelations
not even that look
or that skin
or that laugh.
no commitment
no loyalty
no payoff
no gamble or risk.
I just refuse
to allow
you to despise
my memory.
as if I had a choice.
what was I thinking?
friend.
look it up.

-- Fall 1996