x.

understand that nothing is real.

**.

search for art in all that you see (for art is present in all things).

***.

art is everything, nothing is real. we are left to conclude that art is nothing, nothing is art, or perhaps everything is nothing-which makes art more real than nothing, because it is in fact something.

xxxx.

when we smoked cigarettes in the alley way during winter, our backs against the cold brick wall; well, darling, that was art.

xxxxx.

you made poems and paintings and songs and dances, but i’d never seen anything more real (or perhaps less real) than the way your eyes looked when they were in love. and that, well that was the truest art there could ever be.

xxxxxx.

understand that your love is everything, and everything is art, but nothing is real, or art is nothing. my words will never quite be right, but your eyes in love were the rightest thing that never existed -(or existed more than anything).

watching your
lipslikepetals
caress the air and ****** my
breath, knowingly
or not.

Last night I held a dinner party
The boyfriends smoked on the balcony
while the girlfriends cooked.
I orchestrated three courses:
spinach salad,
lemon rosemary chicken and mushroom cream risotto,
and strawberry pie.
We even had three whole bottles of wine to match each one.

It takes a sophisticated finesse to throw one of these things,
the mess of an apartment is filled with wine-tipsy giggles
and shouts of "look I'm domestic!" when the chicken comes out of the oven.
We set the table with a white cloth and tried to match all the plates.

To sit with friends and food,
I feel, are the two most important things in the world.
We gathered at the table but we did not pray.
Instead, a toast!
To friends like family, job offers on both coasts,
boyfriends, girlfriends, to be so lucky in love,
to little Mimi, she's done so well here. For those
graduating, we're sad to leave, for those returning
we look forward to another year
with her cooking!

You make me think the most inappropriate thoughts
in the most appropriate times
You leave me stuck hiding blushes and suppressing sighs
I didn't understand what soft features were
until those teasing eyes locked into mine
and I wanted to reach out to close the distance
between my shivering frame and your hands
Was my expression as permissive as I felt
More , was my body beckoning as my thoughts were
I guess you must have heard me through the walls
for I found your body answering my unsaid mind calls
all of you down my neck , along my back
leg to leg , knees bent at the same place
there was a little dancing , so as to appear innocent
but your voice turned me around and we were face to face
your thumb gently up and down my palm
and I took you away , we parted from the crowd
tripping onto the cushions before the door clicked shut
the length of me folded into the length of you
and we continued our not so innocent dance
a pas de deux of our voices escaping
through the rise and fall of our molded bodies
pushing each other to the finish
yes , yes oh darling yes runs through me .

Your sister called her
the girl in the red beret

and there she was
in the outdoor

swimming pool
in the park

her gran sitting
in the stands knitting

and Janice saw you
and said

Fancy seeing you here
can you swim?

You stood
in the shallow end

of the pool
in your blue trunks

looking at her wet fair hair
clinging to her body

and her eyes bright
in the sun’s afternoon light

No not so far
you replied

I can
she said shaking water

from her hair and head
I can swim the length

and back almost
you looked over

at Jimmy in the pool
talking to friends

she touched your hand
and said

I can show you
how to swim

and she smiled
and you felt her hand

on yours and hoped
Jimmy wasn’t looking

seeing her touch you
Maybe another time

you said
pulling your hand away

and plunging it
into the water

I’ve got to go
you said

my friends
are waiting for me

and she looked at you
her eyes now sad

and she said softly
No stay with me

I like it
when you are near me

and she stood there
in her pink swimsuit

her hair sticking
to her face

her eyes watery and blue
and gazing hopefully

(the noise and laughter
from the pool

momentarily shut off)
at seven year old you.

She taught me
how to whistle,
folded a blade of
grass between
her teeth and
scared frogs half to death
in the woods
behind her house,
that chord struck
deep in the crater
she punched through
my heart

Her sandy skin
burned in the memories
of boys, who watched her
run across a field
with hair swinging
like a beacon, those
candied lips quick to laugh
at a passing joke,
they thought that
she belonged to them

But those lavender evenings
of junior high summers,
bikes and scooters lying
like faithful pets against
the hot pavement, chalky
hands with nails painted
resting against her
scabby knees, those knees
were my altars, I prayed there
more than I prayed in any church,

She was an anthem
unclaimed, she was
an American soccer girl
****** into a taste and color world
where she could be worshipped
by boys with football scars
and veins coated thick
with peanut butter & jelly,
she fell so hard that summer
cupped into the hands of
one after another, after I fell asleep

on the leopard carpet
of her bedroom,
I could hear her
whispering, and the
magma in my throat
filled to bursting,
the fireflies I'd cradled
in the bones carved
from her wrist --
I knew I'd never hold them
when the sun rose,
they escaped far too soon

This mosquito-stung life,
we wore our bites like
champions,
brought them home
to our mothers
until they would fade,
facing the plastic leaves
of autumn, I wanted to
stay locked
in her cage.