She asked, he gave, they smoked the night away.
They shared the fire they'd held between their eyes,
until the smoke gave way to light of day.

How long had she felt burning in this way?
Not longer than he'd held her in his eyes.
She asked, he gave, they smoked the night away.

He'd watched her every move and every sway,
and hid his aching pain from all the guys,
until the smoke gave way to light of day.

They told her of his longing, burning way,
and she denied her own with see-through lies.
She asked, he gave, they smoked the night away.

I saw the smoldering within his gaze,
and told her, but she called them brother guys,
until the smoke gave way to light of day.

She lied about the time she spent all day,
with him, he was a lover in disguise.
She asked, he gave, they smoked the night away,
until the smoke gave way to light of day.

(C)2008, Christos Rigakos

I wanted to
write you something
that said something
and I looked at your hands
like the losers of a street fight
beaten until they are no longer hands
and thought of nothing . . .
well . . .
nothing that would mean something
anything to you

and I looked at your mouth
that rolled like waves on a stormy day
in a movie
a celluloid memory that is blind to me
hanging like a silver ghost
tethered to the wall by the
wrong kind of light
and it rolled and pitched and
yawed until it was no longer a mouth
and I thought of nothing . . .
well . . .
nothing that would mean something
anything to you

and I looked into your mirror
that was a boomerang
a u-turn
a paddle ball in the hand of an
obsessive-compulsive mute
keeping the beat
like Belinda Carlisle
like Jane Wiedlin
and it came back to me again
again it came back to me
it came back again
to me
and I thought of nothing . . .
except . . .
anything that would mean something
anything to me

And I wanted to
write you something

I want to do the boring things with you.
Like helping you clean your apartment.
I want to meet your friends,
And introduce you to mine.
I even want to meet your parents,
Even if they are crazy Republicans.

I want to be there for you
When you're stressed
And your whole life is imploding.
I'll be the one to pull you from the wreckage.
Sit with you.
Listen.
Make you feel like you can live again.

I want to hear your problems;
Past and present.
Pretty much,
I just want to know you.
All of you.
The bad.
The embarassing.
Even all the terrible things.
I will Love all of them.
Just as I'm coming to Love you.

Because you ruin my poetry;
My rhyming.
My ability for perfect timing.
All out the window.

I know that Love doesn't just happen overnight.
That it takes time.
But I think sometimes
You can just tell.
I don't Love you yet,
But I know that I will.

I've already pictured our lives in my head.
I don't do that.
I don't think about children
Or holidays.
God forbid, my wedding day.
But with you, it's like things have changed.
Maybe it's just me,
But I really don't think
That this is a one-way thing.
You did this to me.
Of that, I am certain.

A single footstep in the sand.
A tear spilt on the beach.
The quietness without you, and
The absence of your speech.

The long hot days in summer,
I've never been so alone.
I'd welcome back the thunder,
If it meant that you weren't gone.

The storms we'd weather together,
The ones we helped create.
You always said it better;
We didn't argue but, 'debate'

Love's not butterflies in stomachs
But a heart held in my hand.
You left a permanent mark,
When you knelt down in the sand.

A ring slipped on my finger,
I'll be forever yours.
Eternal love will linger,
You're the ghost that I adore.

broken glass on the floor
spread out, oh so evenly.

you know,
i broke that mirror.

it was me, who realized
that beauty shatters
us all.

those vile words,
so twisted and cruel;
they, too, cut us until
we bleed.

we bleed
until we are pretty,
pretty enough
for ourselves

and no one else.

The fruit bowl is staring at me.
It's eyes are fat, sweet, mangos.
My mother keeps bringing them home for me.
A childhood favorite, she knows.
Something so tropical and sweet
can only remind me of you.
And the mango you plucked for me
ripe from it's tree by the shore.
And the loves you swore to me
juicy, sticky, dripping from your lips.
I haven't the hear to tell her
I have since lost the taste.
The flesh bitter and empty now
like the promises you made to me
their juices stain my mouth, clothing, fingertips.
Everything I have touched is sticky with them.
She tells me not to forget about them.
To eat them before they spoil.
I tell her "I won't forget,"
when what I mean to say is
"I can't."

'I slept, and dreamed that life was beauty;
I woke, and found that life was duty.
Was thy dream then a shadowy lie?
Toil on, sad heart, courageously,
And thou shall find thy dream to be
A noonday light and truth to thee.'