I have decided now
I will stay alone
in a one bed room apartment
I won't buy any new furniture
except a wooden table
to place my new television set
where I would watch
2 episodes of "The Sopranos"
everyday.

I don't need friends
I knew that long ago
Back when I was a little boy
yet
Boys of my age had forgotten even to bully me
my insipid silence mistaken for my invisibility
girls hardly noticed me
because I pretended to hardly notice them
from my 3 foot by 3 foot wooden bench & chair

Back then, I had my own world
Rather worlds,
worlds where a fictional Mr. Tom Mathews
was a savior of the planet Earth
from numerous planet Earths
floating in the ephemeral universe
all essentially evil
so that Tom had to visit them
& plant nukes within their very cores
as
"the only way out was in"

Now,
I have Megan
or Should I say had.
She lives in this beautiful efficiency
with a giant sized teddy
her idea of someone better than me.
She has a nice flat screen TV
a wonderful bookshelf
a cosy kitchen
and a talking walk in closet
where I could easily live with
her wardrobe , accessories, perfumes.

Her wonderfully brown hair is now tied
in a nice little bun
and she smells of creams and fresh oranges
and she wears formal shirts and coffee colored skirts
when she leaves for work every morning.
I could have lived with Megan
but our worlds never collided
the way they should have
although I distinctly remember
of having brushed in her kitchen
and making chocolate brownies in her oven
or watching her perfect TV
and stealing a book or two from her shelves.

My friend Chris, who will also be my ex roommate
tells me he will move in the same apartment complex
as Megan.
He says he will sign the lease come Monday
and start living in a efficiency just like hers
He says we will keep meeting on Fridays
and come un-announced to each other's apartments
our way of maintaining our beautiful friendship
yet not living under the same roof.
I gather he plans to get married early next year.

As of me,
I am excited to move into this one bedroom apartment
they say I will have a coffee table where I will read all day
and write whenever I want.
I could impoverish as well
because I won't cook food for myself.
I will stay sober
Because I won't buy beer.

I was hoping Megan would visit me
now that I will have a coffee table
so that I can read her my poems
while she sips coffee
and I get inspired by her cream odor
and the teddy bear who looks smiling back at me
with large giant ears
from her t-shirt.

© Nothing Personal. April 21, 2012.

There are far better worlds out there
Hazy, unclear , certainly not vivid
in a journey of tangible emotions
where God indeed can sit down
for a game of chess
the result determining
who will hold
the key to the world of unlimited possibilities and endless travel
in time so infinite and uncountable
that the clock hardly ticks.

I would like to think that my every move
on the white and black checkered board
controls the torque in the tug of war
between six people-
death, the priest, the eternal mistress,
the aging child, the faceless warrior and
the pied piper of course.

I would play,
I would watch their dance
go in a trance like state
dream and wake up
wake up and dream
in a night that is always a night
yet there is evening lights outside
rampant wind
and triumphant music.

As my white queen approaches the demolition
of God's black king
I notice all the squares in the board
reversing sides
and either I will lose when I should I have won
or the game will go on forever.
Dreams are a gentle reminder
how absurd reality is.

© Nothing Personal. March 29 2012.

Why don't I meet those students?
I can be a teacher
I am a teacher
not teaching English in a community college
or NYC for that matter
yet a teacher
and I have Freudian asymmetries
I mean I am hung up on women
on old world literature
on promiscuity , racial mixing
tense ****** moments.
I am also quite frank
to myself, to my sensibilities
my self centered world.

I do have students
who seem to be interested in
chitchats outside class
those evening walks grabbing coffee somewhere
learning a thing or two
about life, men.
I mean, their chief complain
they have dated boys
missing pseudo-intellectuals
& everyday enactment of 'Oedipus Complex' in reverse.

I see compelling eyes,
provocative bodies,
keen to learn, waste and start from scratch
yet I don't meet those girls
who would rip apart my three year old marriage
keep me pseudo-happy for the time
have *** in claustrophobic venues in unknown hours of the day
make me quit jobs, sanity and pragmatism
marginalize me to despair and defacement
to
inevitably break up with me
so that I can write a book or two about it
Random House may be interested
and I would have to turn forty,
without a single care in this whole, wide world

You are my conjecture when the universe ends.
I will create geometry, possessiveness and dystopia
looking through your eyes.

O mystic girl,
this time make the world less enigmatic
settle down in a small hamlet by the bay
cook me fish and rice
and I will stay home, always.

© Nothing Personal. March 23 2012.

Because it's a strange feeling waking up to a stranger every-time
a xenophobic aroma
unfamiliar nakedness
complicated traces of an unknown brand of hair shampoo
lying on the pillow.

Either pretending to be asleep
when she dresses up to go
or making a fake offer to make warm, lemon tea
only to have one last dated access to an otherwise sacred body.

Then the dull thud
the absence of the unknown
creating nauseating feelings of melancholia
that you will be forever alone
and will have to live for Friday nights
3 digit figures of conquests notwithstanding.

Often times, lying all day naked
staring outside for the point, reason of it all.
By the evening, paranoia is almost gone
creative surges phoenixizing the Henry Miller in me
For the Anais Nin's and Tania's of the night
once again.

© Nothing Personal. March 03 2012.

They said curiosity was the urge of the generation
I for myself, can hardly beg to differ
It was Friday
Austin was moist
there were raindrops all over my tyres
I drove on in an enchanting madness
I was alone there when I got there.
There were some of you
whom I thought I knew
but I actually didn't.

I felt amongst friends
Then the familiarity of some emotions
struck me
those emotions, that once and for all,
is beyond race, ethnicity and national origin.
You were mesmerized, but
people from your country are supposedly known
for nonchalance and indifference.
He had something for you
But niether did you know
nor did I
what would be true
if I were him.

Could we go back to the shades of the past
Could we disappear in black and in white
so that you would look beautiful
and I your gaunt lover.

I came back after pausing a moment to wonder.
You and him, tap danced away.
It was exhilirating for me
to watch all the excitement
and yet surprisingly not being a part of it
always forgotten
always uninvited.

But then I was invited somewhere
I became the face of the crowd
But then you called.

The rain didn't stop .
It poured and poured.
We chatted, briefly.
You became silent on the other end of the phone.
I waited on this end.

The rain kept pouring and pouring.
A thunder rolled.
I kept waiting for Saturday morning.
I watched the rain from pools,
streams, rivers of connected waters
washing away everything
from the window of my room
a window that I seldom open.

Saturday came unknowingly.
The rain had stopped.
It had left its scent.
I watched the branches of moss laden trees
and wondered.
A cold wind blew towards me.

© Nothing Personal. Feb 18 2012.