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it's takes two to be a stranger
but you are cold enough for us both
i'm sorry.
Forever was just
an excuse
to be
close to you.
Not a poem.
 Mar 2018 Stu Shapiro
This is not a love poem
this is an I love you do you love me like
I love you poem
do you know me like
you think you do poem
this is a would you be disappointed
if you did poem
an I have been feeling the chilling of the air
and I cant tell if it is just the fault of the season
or if you, too, are cooling
whatever heat you had for me
browning and falling and
crumbling between my fingers
like the leaves of these oak trees
in november poem
a what would I need to do to keep us warm poem
and this is also
an I may be completely mistaken poem
an it was seventy degrees today poem
this is a show me I am completely mistaken poem
 Mar 2018 Stu Shapiro
i went to a coffee shop
and bought a cup of latte,
it smells so good as your parfume
its colour was brown as your eyes
and the foam was white as your skin

but then,
as i gulp my latte down,
i realized;
it was bitter as you too.

 Mar 2018 Stu Shapiro
 Mar 2018 Stu Shapiro
This marks the birthing of monumental proportions
turning a black and white world to one of perpetual
variegated sunrises. You are the furthest thing from
an accident.  You continue to cultivate one step at a
time breathing new life into each set of hungry eyes
waiting to confront the trojan line that produces the
battles in the brain.  What to write next is under the
surface,  patient and dormant,  for the future paints  
you in the adrenaline of other colors.   Instinctually,
I look to you and surrender to the abrupt,  arresting
grip of the ghost of a thought that’s just out of reach.
 Mar 2018 Stu Shapiro
I would re-name the planets after galaxies in your eyes.
The stars finally know what it feels like to burn with envy.
There are constellations tracing the soft skin of your back.
Following dips and curves, I would draw maps with *******
of everything that matters.

Freshman science taught us about untouched miracles;
and just like that-
the ultraviolet cosmic phenomenon
fixed us to spiral arms in far-away planetary
nebulas, like the ringed Cat’s Eye.

The milky skies whispered
so that only we could hear,
"Heaven's dust will fall"
You feared last night you could hear the earth
cracking under the weight of the universe,

paralyzed with a crippling guilt
you'll only see the stars after they've died.
Neighboring nova would spectate
our telescopic wavelengths-
needing the prisms to reflect on

our kaleidoscope refractions.
No matter the efforts of a tangible spectrum,
one could never quite touch our frequency.
Between lazy and lively,
our whitecap love remained visibly invisible.  

Our infrared vessel to space, raced clusters of runaway stars
past post-distant intergalactic bodies,
shooting through beasts, astrologies, gods.
We window shopped stellar bursts of dust clouds
above our clouds, a gravity shelter.

Meteors became our faithful companions
glowing gassy flowers of dusty debris.
The pressure (we couldn’t touch) generates combustion;
atoms gazing psychedelic pinks, greens,
soothing tones of aquamarines.

Ever since then you've been the glittering
black hole, heaving me in.
The only thing I’m able to taste is  
the way your luminous Milky Way kiss
gives gifts of halos to terrestrial light rays.

But the flavor of your lips are the
battalions inspiring the star shining front lines-
Integrity a marathon taking laps
to the moon
to Pluto and back, the long way.

Blizzards of stars rewrite our language
in the moon beams,
guiding us past lost letters to Pluto.
How do you sleep among dancing stars
while the rest of the universe watches?

I made my home in your eyes
and you made your home in the sky.
 Mar 2018 Stu Shapiro
 Mar 2018 Stu Shapiro
Every morning I
jump out of an airplane with
out a parachute:

Swallows Starlings and
Ancient Sparrows caress Me
through Mt. Everest,

Humming Magpie’s hang
on to my fingertips past
Burj Khalifa in Dubai.

Plummeting over
the lark’s meadow the loon’s lake
and today seems small.

Fifteen-thousand feet
holds the rebirth of rubber
band resiliency,

Chant with my feathers
now bound to tumbling shoulder
blades like holy fowl.

Destiny a grail
all-embracing imminent

Morning endures as
I ascend our reflecting clouds
“Today is the day”.
 Mar 2018 Stu Shapiro
 Mar 2018 Stu Shapiro
E  v  
so often I
like to think back on
that greasy summer- my hidden
lover. Teeth ripping into me like they
were devouring a sticky peach on a patio
near the beach; hungry and so full of desire.
Early eyes quivered as I suffered your satisfied
fingers on my thigh-  feeling the contusions that
replaced my pale pink skin. A felt existence left
devoted in moments like these-our compulsive
wrappings conceal the fortunes that can be
found only in one another. In a way, this
biblical dimension carries a perpetual
forgiveness and passion that play
together hand in hand.
 Mar 2018 Stu Shapiro
 Mar 2018 Stu Shapiro
It’s not about fitting it all into the car;
it’s about fitting the pieces together
against the agrestic trunk space.
It’s the way we hungrily wait
to spit up our influence It’s
the patient extraction of
a cat cornered conver
sation that is easier
to  shove  under
the innate rug
that is this
l i f e
 Mar 2018 Stu Shapiro
 Mar 2018 Stu Shapiro
Every step you take,
you are
your future, whether you realize it
or not.
Emerge like the rail road
that was once underground.
Each choice leads to a new narrative.
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