I want to know I made you smile.
If I could cause such beauty,
life would mean more for a moment.

Why don't smiles last?
Why does the heartbeat slow, eventually?
And can't two people simply enjoy one another's company--
be be here for once, for now, together, right here and just be warm?
Without expectation, just happy.
No hopes, no unstated desires, just togetherness,
and those conversations one has lying on roofs, looking into the stars, on the hood of your car,
looking out on the moonlight stretched in shadows over a lake's rippling surface,
you know in the movies,
but when you actually do it it's better than any movie no matter who you're with or what temperature it is outside, or how many mosquitos are swarming, or what the radio is playing.
And notes written in pencil.
Pens run out of ink.
But why did we...
Why have we...
Why are we not writing anymore?
Can we drag the dry pen down the pages, forever, until paper rips under the pressure?
The story is etched into me.
Let's never stop telling the story.

Anyway, like I said, I want to know I made you smile
so we need to speak of many things.
So that if you want to know you made me smile,
we can know exactly where those smiles came from,
what it meant...
what it means for them
to have meant that
to
us.

I remember it as if were yesterday
VE Day...well, not exactly
but, close enough for me
The actual surrender of Italy
May 2, 1945....but the **** Americans
Always the Americans wanted May 8
So, it's May 8th, but I'll always remember the second
We were in Milan...I love Milan
****** was dead, Mussolini was dead
I was alive, and in Milan
Rumours were out that the war in Europe was almost done
Nobody had told the Gerry's that though
Word came from Lubeck that they'd surrendered
I was twenty one years old, going on 50
War ages you...and not in a good way
I was in 6th Airborne and ready to go back
When the word came down
I remember kissing the waitress at our cafe
I kissed her hard, and with as much passion as a 21 yr. old can have
I didn't want to let her go
It was over
I kissed her for myself, and everyone in Milan
I kissed her for my folks in Clapham
I kissed her for her folks, wherever they were
I kissed her because we were free, they were free
I kissed her for my Uncle, who we lost early in 1941
Lost him during the blitz in London
England lost 430 people, we lost Uncle Cyril
That was enough, I was signing up
Now, it was over and I was moving on
I kissed her for everyone still waiting for the news
But, most of all, I kissed her for Leslie Testro, Rfn (18yrs)
Lance Cpl Thomas Wray (22 yrs), Lt. Dennis Edmonds (21 yrs)
and all the others attached to 6th Airborne
Who wouldn't know it was Victory in Italy
They were lost, not forgotten, never forgotten
Forever in our minds, our roll of honour
We celebrate them annualy
Few of us left now, but, those that are
go back to Italy every two or three years
back to Milan, and we toast them all
My waitress, Rosa Testrini
She was there as well, every year
Until five years back, we lost her
Now we toast her as well
We all have our honour roll
She was on mine
I found her again in 1950
We were on our second trip back
She met my wife, and I her husband
He's still there, and we talk
My Italian is better than his English
But, we talk as well as we can
I miss her, and the others
But that day, that glorious day in May
I've never kissed like that since
And my wife knows it
Sometimes she reminds me...
I laugh, and remind her....
What that day means...if it hadn't happened
We may not be kissing now
so, she'll never get that kiss
Only Rosa
Rest In Peace my waitress

I feel your arms
when I listen to my favorite songs,
I hear your voice
when I look at the moon and
I see your eyes whenever
I close mine.
Why can’t you be the one
to kiss me goodnight
rather than my
crinkling sheets?
And why isn’t your voice
singing me to sleep
rather than these
broken records?
How is it that
you’re so full when
I’m as hollow as bone?
Can you teach me your ways,
because I’m gasping for air
as you swim in an
ocean of luxury
and I’m sick of
drowning.

She claims she's broken

choking on the last words she said to him


All her life is but a dream

and no one knows just what it means


To hold this broken beauty in your arms

if only for a moment


And in that instant,

all of these ancient feelings

come flooding back


All the hurt of past lives,

all of the attachment

and passion

of returning to love


All of the times

we decided it'd be best

to put our brains in the bottle

and contain our ways


The feeling stays awake

in the form of

diluted memory

and bruised skin


The feeling stays awake

like I do,

lonely as the night


The only living thing

born dead


And it feels just right


The feeling stays awake like I do,

all night,

thinking of you

and your poison stare


Let me swallow you

and burn my throat

on your existence


Let me close,

if only for a moment


Let me in,

I promise you'll enjoy it


Since all we want to do is forget,

And bite our skin

with frozen passion,

we'll give up


Surrender to the dirt brown

carpet on the floor

and lay there forever


Since all we want to do is forget,


"Only for a moment"

Is all we'll get

I tremble because I am not the breeze,
because I will never be the the auburn sunset on the surf,
because I will never be as cleansing as the rain.

I weep because I can not nurture half as much as the soil,
and because I have not solidified enough to be a stone.

My mundane body quakes with despair;
because I am too complex to be as simple as the clouds,
and I will never break as beautifully as a barreling wave.

I am terrified because I don't know if I will ever be more than Human.

You dominate every second of my day and every dream in the night. My heart constricts and expands, constricts and expands, quicker and quicker to the sight of your face behind my eyes.

And there, you blossom.

Your eyes are not eyes; they speak words unspoken. They are frosted glass windows transparent only to me.

Your cheeks are not cheeks; they glow and paint warmth through my limbs, my organs, my lips, until we are luminous.

Your arms are not arms; they are illustrations of your depth and through them you could be no one else.

Your brain is not a brain; it is a galaxy of passion, enchantment, optimism and adventure. I am engulfed by you.

And all I experience is wonder.