Careless
(after Christian Bok's "Vowels")
Seas arc, race, see.
Easels: less real.
Ace a rare sale?
Care less for a lass?
Alas, lease a lass.
Sales are rare.
Ease seals care.
Cease a race.
See real.
The heart and the lungs form a rhythm.
The stuff 'o life is squeezed out from within 'em.
The quick dithers out,
as from a dried up old spout,
and you end up under a shroud made 'o linen.
Competing interests wreak
havoc on union
of collective will.
You are leaning toward me
in a friendly, formal sort of a way,
for a hug.
It's just the end. The end of dinner. The end of the movie. I am on the couch. You were on the chair.
But now, it's the doorway
And my
hand is on your back as you say "Bye now". And I
tumble into Oblivion, my palm
buzzing with the imprint of the glorious muscled cords of
your
low back.
All that is man under my
hand
for a slice of time.
I can't speak. I stand dumb & empty, like a doll
motionless & placid even though her
hand is on fire.
I hope that you don't notice.
Once I am outside the door, the cool summer night air in my throat,
the blood rushes back into my face
& I am staring at my
hand.
It's as if it's stained,
my fabric soaked by your bravery, your wit, your remote will.
I want to shake it off, leave it at the wrist on the doorstep, stiff & twitching on the rough rug below:
Give you the color of my hand, & leave forever.
Have you ever wondered why
puppies squeak when hugged,
kittens purr when rubbed,
children dance and giggle
when they know that they are loved?
Have you ever met someone
and instantly you knew
that she had all the answers why
puppies, kids and kittens
do the things they do?
Have you ever wondered why
a person such as this
would hide this wisdom of herself
as though it didn't exist?
Wisdom is SO moving
when love is in the air.
All of us gravitate towards
someone who's so rare.
Hide no more, oh little one
for you have grown and you are strong.
Dance and giggle all you wish
and all of us will sing along!
The appeal of sports
is the sensation of flight
we get from our play.
Where are they tonight,
those friends of days gone by?
I raise a glass and toast their names
to recall those auld lang syne.
