still be on my feat*

oh Joni you showed up at my door once more, Saturday morn,
blonde bangs and ***** voice, two octaves below shrill,
right about where the register intersection of
heart piercing, me humming, memory smiling,
poetry inspiring, yeah memories crying, that too

together, we have had more than many,
one case of you, a million sips, and I am writing
to see *how you're feeling and to let you know
I never drank a case of you that left me,
being still, left me standing on my feat

my feat?

drank de-feat like it was the sea, boundless but not soundless,
sweet waves repeating, sea tears tinged with bittersweet cries of
Tupelo honey,
cause you were one of my angels,
lifting me higher when love was saying
not!
this time kid,
place, babe, not this peculiar particular apparition,  
wrong rendition,
and at last, finally, long time later, sheepishly, sweetly only,
what was her name

your voice stood me up, your words still slap my face with
cases of kisses upon my neck, tune-turning prophetic notions of
what's next still  be only just around the corner,
waiting on a new, simple twist of feat,
another song, poem, lover, and yet another,
case of you, so we can always see both sides,
and when I think of you Joni
my mind seesaws,
and I, still be on my feet, and thanks to you
ready for my feat

<•>
10:59am 10/28/17

all my life
wanted to write just
the way
Joni (Mitchell) sings

seesawing
rising unexpected,
write the changing temperament
in the pitch,
of now

yawing, oscillating,
speedy slow,
enunciating the whip of
love crazy

twist to fall into a
double-time
bass baritone insane
from and into a higher pitch,
switch on the
en garde,
blue ink
onto cloth napkin poetry

plain plaintive,
rendering the scene,
rendering my heart,
it's crazy high-lows,
emotion backyard
swing set

Oh Joni!
I could drink a case of you

that is was what I
told the single girls
when I was a wooing man

send me home,
high and crying,
thinking uneven,
creatively,
drinking you,
pounding the dashboard,
sing our palpitating poems

thinking up
the in-between
songs of
till next time

that they loved so much
they begged,
sing it again and again

I drank them all
and think now of poem love songs,
vintages that never caged,
never aging,
those songs I wrote for them,
back in the day
when Joni
taught me how to
see life in verse

somewhere between the
first date and the last date

Joni Mitchell,
she, me
  encapsulates

I'm remembering well,
pounding the dashboard of a red Jag,
laughable now, mocking this fool's need
for a middle age conceit,
his heart to restart,
reactivate

in enthusiastic lockstep with the voice of the
Joni,  the blonde goddess of his youth,
foot falling in love,
speeding along
at a
joyous sixty five,
in places where the signs said,
"thirty five to stay alive"

this aged Rip Van Winkle teenager,
in reverse osmosis of Big,
an old buck, come back to antlered life,
singing along to the CD disc
set on
backdate

I could drink case of you,
and still be on my feet

and he could

rediscovering the champagne taste
of a great first date,
feeling the heated blood and fevered mind,
symptoms of the pleasures of
anticipate

thinking she's the one
who will make him great,
happy greater, greater happy
than that one ever, ever,
he thought was roulette wheel possible,
landing on the red of hopeful
floodgate

months, days, minute minute moments
of the fated faded last date later,  
comes the
deflate

but then,
Joni singing comfort words,
reminding him that he would be,
wisely, sadly seeing, feeling,
both sides now, and yet again,
getting his mind back to
straight

I've looked at love that way,
but now it's just another show.
you leave 'em laughing when you go,
and if you care, don't let them know,
don't give yourself away

a grown man punk'd, blasted,
dumb and dumber, dumped,
a feeling sorry sad sack self,
until he reflates, drink another case,
onto yet another magical mystery first
date

pounding that dashboard once again,
believing it's not too late
that perfect roommate heart's to find and
captivate,
to attain, invade, acquaint and laughingly...

serenade