They enter the café just as some sappy pop song is playing
They order then immediately hug
Embrace
Swaying to one side, together, like the wind
Encircling the leaning tower of Pisa
Then teetering to the other solstice
Foot to foot, smile to smile, hand round skirted waist
Forearm resting on his tall  blazered shoulders

This is forgivable in the young
Those teeny-boppers with defiant hair-cuts and posters
However, he has peppered hair
She, though voluptuous and tanned,
Must be in her 30s.
“Affair.”
My cynical devil snickers, between sips

But I sit mesmerized, and for the first time ever
Envious.
The chairs and the tables somehow seem more distant
The song  now sounds as if it’s funneled through some crackling phonograph
The very light disentangles itself from stones
It’s as if a sky has opened up in my chest
Flying high overhead,  one lone raven,
Its slow shadow
Gliding across my heart

Oh, how I miss you
5 states away

I see your smile on magazine covers
I vaguely sniff your scent on passing women
Yet you remain elusive - immaterial, haunting,  
While this visceral assault

Leaves me bewildered - empty
An echo in a chiaroscuro cavern  
Fading for thee

Your snores are like a poem, your silence - writer’s block
Your tears a bleeding pen, your ****
A double-entendre for a sock

Please stop writing about writing

No one cares if you haven’t scribbled a haiku
In two days. Or if angelic Whitmans sing to you
Like bearded cherubs, baby-boo

Please stop writing about writing

And no one cares about its state
Or what it does or doesn't, or its fate
Or what it takes to be first rate

Please stop writing about writing

It's a literati twerk
Watch your fellow wordsmiths go to work
At the meta-circle ****

Please stop writing about writing

Yes, you’re spitting rhymes and flow
Basking in the muse's glow
Dropping learnéd metaphors , we know

Just please stop writing about writing

                                                        ­     Like so

Lying in your arms
Is my vacation

Your eyes are the stars over Paris
Your lips my Spanish sangria
Your scent like Persian jasmine

When you nuzzle into my neck
And rapid kiss me, laughing
Then rest your eyelids
Lightly on my pulse

I transport to that ashen couple
As the Vesuvian magma oozes over
Forever in terrestrial communion
Embracing - as we do now

Your childhood dream
Your teenage dream
Your 20s dream
Your 30s dream
Your 40s dream
Your 50s dream

Measure them in decades
Transfixed before a distorted hall of mirrors

A cycling fun-house

While presidents come and go
Parachute pants, bomber jackets, bangs

When you’re drifting off to sleep
What feeling awakens in your heart?

What small feet run across your translucent landscapes
Cubists blocks of what might have been

Twisting , reforming…, parallax

Like Etcher in motion, Inception

Dark cities floating overhead while eclipses burn red

Do your hands tremble with rage or with despair?

Or do you lie perfectly still, resigned

Practicing for your casket

Selfies of your head sinking into starched pillows

You’re responsible now

Clerks and coroners pat you on the back

The least you can be is responsible

Hunting down dreams in dreary forests
With bow knives and bandanas

Is foolish

Better to fill out your W2s

Calculate your interest and help with homework

Don’t be selfish


Let others burning with madness, desire and discontent

Dream for you

Shape the future for you

Preferable to be content

An anti-pioneer   To Nest in paperclips and razors

Satisfied with consolation prizes, Ms. Congeniality

To sink silently down the toilet of trivialities
Floating listlessly like a ****
Flushed out into the polluted ocean of time

But let us not dwell on dreams

Let us drill, let us dance, let us down

Korean BBQ and snap-shot sunsets

Never mind the shadows swirling

Through you, deepening with every tock

Civilization calls  - You must be integrated.

Not like days of yore

On the hunt

But wrenched into a mechanical maelstrom

Input into a coded vision

An alien incubator zooming through metallic tubes


You are an app

Of Aborted dreams

Of pragmatic passiveness
  

Fingered by millions of strangers

To **** time and hope

I want you to close your eyes
Visualize
Hand over breast
Until your palm thumps

What you feel transfigures the physical
What we have transcends the sultry soma
Or random tactile sensation

I want you to close your eyes
Listen to my ripe breath
Inhale my low voice

It is like a hymn
It is true because while it whisks
Through your ear
It blossoms in your heart

Let it reverberate through those midnight gardens
You deny yourself among the slobbering masses

Groping you like raw meat
Pounding, slicing and packaging you
Like clumsy butchers

You are not a bleeding slab to me
Though I cherish that animal
Which temporarily houses your light

It is that radiance which warms my loveless bones
Which illuminates my dreamless skull

Distance only magnifies our effulgence
We are insects below it, scrambling

Let us immolate together beneath its searing heat
Until the facades of flesh melt
And we are left as **** as shadows
Aching for an unremitting bliss

Like a bad *** general reciting deaths
Strewn bodies like dead roses
Along the shore while the waves engulfs them
You glare at me like the enemy i have slained
But havnt conquered,  my love
I read your book but failed to read between the lines
Of what makes you holy, or mine

Wake up in a slight daze
like the hanging haze when something in the kitchen is burning
but it’s the fog of hangovers, dizzying post nights
flash cards of kisses, songs, and maybe tears

all kinds of parts of me ache with bruises and bite marks
there’s opened chasers, flung boots, bottles under the bed
I spot your red lipstick imprinted on ashed cigarettes and beer cans
and when I go take a ****, I discover your ******* in my pocket

I see your text, “Home. Had a blast. Miss ya! ***”
and I am no longer haunted by some vague lingering feeling
that somehow this was a ****** scene
instead of our raw rituals of love