Lovers from memories long ago
   show up in my dreams and my young
   me is naked with them naked and we
   live lavish lives in dream time
   which lasts for years then I wake
   in our bed in the blink of an eye.
   I'm wet from her body and blush as
   I touch your leg thinking of her.

I try so hard to be indifferent
but I'm angry and happy and
sober and drunk and love and
hate you like puppies and *****.
I'm a lost jewel you miss but still
feel it on your locket on a breast.

We're clamoring for Eden again!
The beasts stole it from simple
folks and built a Washington DC
and made Kings and Lords and
Ladies and **** on us peasants.
Bring the serpent back to fix it.

I'm too close to the sun.
My wings are melting.
I plummet to the Earth
and die from gravity's
ruthless pull and my
desire to be god like.

Hell, let's all go to church
    and throw a 20 in the basket
    to save us from Satan's heat
    and get us a ticket to heaven.
    Confess your secrets and say
    your penance and the soul is
    cleansed, the Golden Ticket.

I wanted to make you proud.
Your first born boy namesake.
March 23,1949. You were back
from war nerves on edge and
work was scarce and you kept
exploding in rage and we all
vibrated with fear and felt
your pain and war's hell and
pitied and loved you always.
Mom closed the windows in
summer so the neighbors
wouldn't hear and we went
to our rooms and mastered
the art of disappearing.

Something is out of place.
Something inherently
molecular within her
myogenic wilderness:
a modesty, an awareness,
the visible manifestation
of her shyness.
It contracts.
It tones.
It colors her
openly,
just as the sky.
Involuntary,
just as stimuli.
There's something new
about this face.
Something awakened.
Something lovestruck
and silly.
For what else
could exert such
a dilator mechanism,
in all its deliciousness?