we had everything we wanted
not a care left in the world
we left all our inhibitions
in the hall outside our room
put the locks on the door, firmly

i could hear the traffic
moving on the streets below
but never even wondered
where they might all go
you took my hand so, gently

we had breakfast sent up
orange juice freshly squeezed
the bathtub water running
i wrote your name in the
steam on the mirror, Lesley

Dear Lesley,
I'm sorry to have to do this through a letter, but
last time your crying just humiliated
the other couples in your group session.
Although, this might save embarrassment,
and make me look better, now that we are
both sleeping with other people. (If you
can call conjugal visits to your ex-husband people.)
This letter may well be the last memory
you will have of me, if your social worker
lets you keep it as a memento anyway.

I am leaving, and I won't be looking back either.
I am sure you won't be surprised or terribly upset.
It is completely your fault, no doubt about it!
Mainly, it is your long history with lying problems,
even more than your alcoholism, that keeps me
from being even remotely interested in continuing
this relationship with you. (I told you I forgave
you for sleeping with your boss, but I guess I
never really did.)

You would be so much better off finding someone
that can accept the emotional baggage that
you carry around, the ones with the orange tags.
Maybe your analyst can explain that to you better
than I can. I must say, I will miss some of the exciting
times we had together. Like when you got so drunk
and flirted with my father at our family Christmas
dinner. My mom has still not gotten the red wine stain
out of the tablecloth where you puked on it.

I'm glad this is finally done and we can go our
separate ways. I think you will find someone else
with whom to have an unhealthy relationship based
on physical attraction and a passion for strip-club bars.
Hopefully, this will happen incredibly far away.

Good riddance, and Happy New Year.

PS Maybe you should just go back to being a lesbian.
PPS I have no idea where you parked your car.

i.
i draw my fingers
along the scars
you used to cut
yourself, a hidden
language, like a
braille of the skin

ii.
yet, you allow me in,
gently, my fingertips
trace hungrily
your tale which you
stack in the library
of your long sleeves
even in the hottest
summer days

iii.
words never served
your purpose they
admitted no connection
although those around
you noticed that
something seemed
to bother you, you
turned to secretiveness

iv.
you started cutting
so young, too young
really, to cope with
so much change
the power of your
own feelings
overwhelmed your
defenses, stuck in
a home, unsettled
a punishment and
a release

v.
i have no answer
for you, no easy
way to overcome
the compulsions
of the heart so
wounded, but
your own strength
and growing maturity
and the control you
have obtained
all seemed to help

vi.
you suppose that
you have written
manifesto
but, i recognize,
perhaps
autobiography

who shall answer for us
and what will be the meaning
our deeds, our lapses, and
our should haves too
it has come upon us,
like a great beast
our cities overthrown and
our temples destroyed
thousands die by famine, by sword
and our indifference
the water thick with crude oil and blood
and i saw the beast rising
amid the wreckage wrought
i saw the fire and the smoke
drifting, this way, and that
the pain, sorrow, disbelief
and what shall they say of us
no more than this
it is necessary to hate
those whom we must ****
to live we must conquer incessantly,
we must have the courage to be happy
compassion must replace fear
that is the fight worthy
of the straight gate and wide way
go into without threat
see the beast wounded
lay down and weep

i.
the rain falls down
in sheets now, blocking my view
as i stand here on the corner
waiting for you
i wish i was young again
i wish i was warmer

ii.
counting backwards
settles my mind
like a surgery patient
waiting for the blade
(although you never use
anesthesia)

iii.
the cab pulls
to my corner
you open the door
i take in your aura
a pulsing
which displaces
the air in the cab
so this is what
heartbreak is for

you said
the sky would never reach you
the pressure seems to increases
no goodbyes and no good reasons
just a time to pick up pieces
no good time to face the music
once we were not future seekers
the lightening serves to defuse
the energy defeats
the sky would never reach you
you said

in the end
when corridors
stand empty
lights turned low
linoleum buffers
working
back and forth
promise me
no lingering