Tuesday, September 9, 2008

what if.......

At summers end:
The wedding i attended, the dinner, the dance, summer, fucking september. the cake was fine. the cake it's smashed all over her face. but fine. happy. i kept hearing that word.
all smiles and glasses tipped back. I drank wine.
There was a girl who wanted to dance with me. She had tattoos and a red ruby ring.
the bride she held out a silk bag for money gifts. i slipped in my money, my complaints, a cigarette butt and advice.
I could see the moon from the window. traces of lip-gloss glitter on my shirt.
the glimmer and shine like stars.
I try holding these moments and not letting them slip away. Not letting her slip away.
but things change, they end, they begin
and back again
my glass is empty
open bar
full again. this is life and love
and you have to have been in love
to write poetry.
so I write words down on a paper napkin and
hand it to ruby ring girl. a smile. her hand on the back of my arm.
the bride is months away from having the baby
this time me
the one who
slips away

Fall: We come here to visit each other and tell each other lies. or maybe it's them we tell the lies to. maybe things we write seem more believable than what we speak. Maybe I can write that I let you visit and you did. Or maybe you can say you've seen my bed or pet my dog.
You told me that i was your one true love.
I'll make you feel good if you do me. it's not much different than before. telling you that you're pretty, adding bear to the end of your first name.

When she'd come over and stay up late. Curled up on the couch writing in her notebook in black ink. We had this kind of sad-love soundtrack always playing in the background. This sort of waiting around for our big crash and burn. She'd bite the cap of the pen, taking off her glasses and rubbing her eyes. The soundtrack. It was so obvious. so obvious. She'd come over and she'd say that she'd stay forever. fall asleep holding me, after we fucked. once she woke me up sucking my dick. She never wrote that down. I didn't either. since when are secrets stories? that's what she'd tell me.

she signs her name with my last name.
that makes her more mine than yours.
If you find me I'm yours in a heart beat.
the illusion of our lonely is
an us and a we.
my heart, god willing
it will stop beating before hers.
she is much younger than I.
and days passing
we visit each other
my world
because of you.

photo credits:
the selby

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