between the *******
of *******
Marj lie large
men who praise

Marj’s cleancornered strokable
body      these men’s
fingers toss trunks
shuffle sacks spin kegs they

curl
loving
around
beers

      the world has
these men’s hands but their
bodies big and boozing
belong to

Marj
the greenslim purse of whose
face opens
on a fatgold

grin
hooray
hoorah for the large
men who lie

between the *******
of ******* Marj
for the strong men
who

sleep between the legs of Lil

She said I was her second favorite.
Not that she'd met a better man,
but that way she left room for

improvement.

She wanted to believe in fidelity
like someone wants to believe
in Jesus or pure justice.

She asked my complex thoughts--
the wordless ones. I asked for an explanation.
She only stared, and I realized I
couldn't tell if her eyes were
green or blue.

She stabbed her ice with a straw
and told me to stop calling it love--
what we were making. That was
fine. I had a few other terms in mind.

She said nightlife and fanfare were
for homosexuals. So, we spent
most evenings eating Chinese takeout
in a rented room.

She vomited on the Fourth of July,
while fireworks erupted. I sat in
a lawn chair, and tried to remember
how she looked in that black A-line dress.

She needed to know my plans for our future.
I said there were endless open doors in front of us.
She said she only heard the sound of a door
closing behind.

She was a free spirit. And I "put it on trial."

She said she needed me

to change the channel.

She said when we ended -- and we would end --
I'd learn a valuable lesson:
a woman is the only creature
that doesn't have to die to haunt you.

I have seen this movie before,
I'd like to believe I know it's ending well.
Finding comfort in the knowing,
I was able to get back to my feet, after I fell.
This one feels different tho, you make that so.
As if you could provide an alternate ending, to my favorite show.
I'd love to love you, it's as obvious as the shade of your blouse.
Like an episode of Tom and Jerry, ill play cat you play mouse.
It's an age old cliche, applicable even now.
Ill find a way to have you, someway, somehow.

Prepare a meal for me,
We won't need forks or plates.
All I need is your mind and your heart,
And some of your time I'd like to take.
Ill be a glutton for knowledge,
My thirst for learning is instatiable.
Ill treat your body like my personal college,
To ever quit school I'm sure I'm incapable.
I'm saying you satisfy my hunger,
So I guess you don't really need me.
But before my life falls to eternal slumber,
I'm asking you to please feed me.

I am sick to my stomach..
but not sure that it is flu..
perhaps, it is my soul..
I don't know what to do..

Is this love..
or something stronger?
Infatuation..
or something longer?
Lingering, longing
this burning, belonging..
deep inside, again alive
I strive- to feel so right.
Can this be?
as simple as.. you and me.

so we undressed
and I didn't finish
and you felt self-conscious
and refused to read to me
like you did the night before
so I didn't sleep
but you did
and your brow was a shelf
and I wiped it off
like I did the night before
so the morning would feel clean
yet I missed a spot
and you said no one loved like me
and that wasn't a good thing
like a songbird that was more showboat
so I'm sorry lukewarm newspapers
and two wine glasses
and too empty
and you bit my lower lip until blood was drawn
like a misery, like a static radio song
so I bit your lower lip until blood was drawn
but that wasn't an anchor
but that wasn't a tether
but that wasn't criminal
like the soap operas and the 51st shade of grey
so we undressed
and turned on the history channel
and it didn't go anywhere
and you said history was for the historians
like ******* was for lovers
so we dressed
and you were a child in my clothes
and I talked down to you
and you took one last drink of my cologne
like a closing hymn collapsing on a dime

In the passion of "love" we know no mercy, no sympathy, only what our heart tells us. We cannot listen to the mind when there's emotions involved, we listen only to the blood flow inside our ears. And we smile when everything is wrong and frown when we can't find the words for what isn't right. We've said many things, secrets that only one another now know, dreams and aspirations of futures set forth, and memories of all that we wish we could forget. We say we'll be there forever through the thick & the thin, but in all probability there will be a day when two paths bring a choice and we choose differently. There will be a time when each others name is just a thing of the past, we'll lose touch, we'll lose everything we've had in these "wonder years" the years when we're young and should be care free but instead we worry about tomorrow even though there's no promise of such a thing. We say "goodnight" to ourselves and "good morning" to the same, we walk along, a pawn in a game of trust and misfortune, we think we're different but the truth is; it's all been done before, nothing is original or new. We think the more we stand out the better and the more we blend in the worse - but in actuality it doesn't matter; there's no better, no worse, in fact there's not even a medium. There's just the notion that one person is better than another because of material belongings or even non material belongings. No one person is better or worse than another, no one person can change the world and yet we still wait for that one who can walk on water...