At the risk of overdoing it, I find myself thinking about you again
Summers are gone, and as days fly by
soft evenings, curtains drawn
won’t give way to fireplace warmth
time and distance are the nare-sayer yet again.

At the risk of losing my sanity, I find a quiet coffee corner that hasn’t given way to gas station convenience.
The wifi-lessness forces pen to page in hopes of finding
the inner me to reach out
to upper you, when headspace gives way to life-changing, life-long decisions
about the kids, the car, the commute, the kitchen cupboards, the commitment
the chaos

At the risk of underdoing it, you plan with military precision every last detail of your move
Each fateful false move joined and re-joined
as you would lose puzzle pieces

At the risk of losing it all, you won’t have the time to work on a proverbial “we”
There is no “we” to re-join
so it can’t be overdone
you deny the “we” never was.

At the risk of losing what might be “we” entirely, my pen and paper dictate that
now is not the time to pursue such matters,
whatever “we” is or will be, will have to wait

as will your puzzle.

There’s no point in trying to become
the best umpire that ever lived.
There’s always someone who’s gonna’ call your game otherwise
no matter how well you play that day, or any other

There’s the time spent practicing with little tykes,
triple A, Grapefruit Leagues and more practice,
there’s never any respite for those who are right
only someone else to refute your best judgement.

There’s no right/wrong regarding calls, strikes/*****
it’s Olympic swimming, diving, ice skating,
subjective.
There’s no life like it, ‘cept maybe the Army

Betting of all sorts, you know not where or when
you just know it’s going on somewhere with somebody/somewise.
There’s no accounting for mans indiscretion to sport
nor the improprieties of professional sport/entertainment.

There’s no telling if you’re gonna’ call good or bad games
or if your kindness or mean streak will exude on any given day
There’s no telling if you’ll make or break at one call or another.

No telling if your taxi will drive or stop
while you’re in a cab
There’s no telling if it’s your time or not
to face the lost angel of death…or not
   it will happen
   in the taxi on the street
   or the garden you’re tending
   the house league diamond
   or the major league ball park
   it will happen
   but there’s no telling……
   when

Beware our first kiss
that uncrossed line of
once done is done
ours will not be a tickled fancy
nor plain nor incidental

First kiss will come from deep within our souls
where desire has slept for months,

Our ****** lip-lock longing
with the torrent of rivers Teslin and Yukon merging
the craving colours change from soft navy blue, shadows of olive
to stark aqua marine, glowing brilliant teal
seen through eyes closed, the witness of deep arousal
from deep within

Mouth water poaches an intensity, hearts race, we forget to breathe
teeth gnarl one another in a **** or flight instinct
towers of oral energy cascade through a single line of longing
faces twisting right and left in attempts to find suitable alignment
not caring when they don’t
nothing else matters
when uncrossed lines are crossed

Beware the first kiss
once
    there is no turning back
let go the vertigo, we will hold one another
while tearing our tongues into one another’s souls
push deeper with all passion’s purpose

this once
will be
      – just once

I am powerfully drawn toward and yet must remain cautions
one false word out of context is ruination
of my career, my life
wrong word – bad time – didn’t mean it
out of context - will all add up

I am weary and need to be held
2019 social media kangaroo-court will tag me
an “inappropriate predator”
my physical person has need that cannot be
expressed as or when I want

I am lost in spirit hoping to find some direction
time was when I could free-spirit my way
through just about anything
my years have found me, I recognize my own shadow,
the spirit has since left

I am torn between heart and head
strong enough in both as in body with rational ability
to decide between the two
knowing that one decision will have consequences
for the other - and others

I am alone with my thoughts undecided
your hair bundled to one side an invitation to caress,
converse and be loved
yet I want no part of my bad things happening
to your good people

Those who study deep human relationships
understand that therapists - Buscaglia and the like,
have advice that,
when heeded
can ease the pain of our life’s loves.

They are apt to tout the benefits of
“writing down the top ten reasons why you love that person”
“and when the going gets rough, read the list”
yadda – yadda
More stuff like
“you can’t love people the same - all the time, people change”
blah – blah -blah
“Remember to laugh and enjoy each other”
and so on and so on
ad nauseum

Rules were made to be broken
so when the going gets tough, pull out
“the twenty reasons why you should get the hell out of the relationship”
Then when the going gets tough
you can retreat gracefully
knowing you “did the right thing”

It is because you cannont love people the same way – all the time
due to the complexities of human nature
and for when they turn their back on you,
you get stood up and they
tear-away the tears from your eyes,
swill their double scotch and
walk away

Somehow, a prescription for laughter’s medicine
doesn’t quite cut it.

So re-read your happy list when your together to remind yourself
of all you’ll miss when you’re alone
on New Years Eve
or spending another Birthday quietly celebrating by yourself

When tending to your garden with your own tears
     you can shred that happy list
     then use it for compost

She caught me staring
not that she was beautiful or gorgeous
attractive, you know

While she didn’t let it get to her
that attraction was used to her advantage from time to time

You could see it through both her persona
Blonde hair all up in a bun
“Hi - I’m from the middle of nowhere
no one else is from there”
the uniform hiding the voluptuous shape
broad yet firm, hardened ***
this was a woman with spare time to walk.

Carrying herself in that cool, friendly, easy-going way
she likely loved what she did
more than a hobby - less than a career.

The following day - with her hair fully exposed
her face showed the no-nonsense style
“What do you want?
What’s up with you?”
the straightforward tone –
not a raised a voice
her face and hands-on-hips
          gave it away.

Those hips ready for the child-bearing years
to the light curvature in her long, strong back
while her *******, notably soft while youngish firm

To feel those hips beyond where anyone other than her husband
and two other college lovers had been,
would have been a life’s-measure

To suckle the sweet nectar of her firm, pointed ******* fully aroused
the kind of memory that memories are made of

Sauntering in and out of my life so quickly
me staring long enough to dream to distraction
- not long enough to become a nuisance, I shouldn’t think

So went my attraction

Hello all you beautiful people
that’s how I would start my dissertation
beautiful people with nothing to lose
and everything to gain

while ugly people,
plain people persons like me
have to work so hard, softened, while you,
intent on being beautiful,
are nothing
if not beautiful

My one thought gets lonely when I see you
what ought to be considered entire and whole
will one day also grow old
the beautiful are nothing if
not beautiful

For me thought comes naturally and I
consider myself fortunate as I must be
content at not being beautiful,
am forced to say something so profound
that a phrase line like
“I broke a nail”
is not as life threatening
or
“How about the price of gas”
won’t seem as wonderfully global
as it would from beautiful persons,
intent on being simply beautiful
when beautiful is simple
or vice-verse

Ugly person you see must work at being
charming, quick witted and swift
while you polish nails
I polish my lines for a play in which
the only star is the beautiful person
behind my ugly shell

A treatise on Bach, formal judgments of global peace
Orwellian theory into practice
both animalistic and I-Robotesque
work their way into ugly people conversation.

Not, “the price of gas”
but "why" the price of gas
or *how" the price of gas
and knowing the answers.

Plain persons have so much more going their way
for the effort expended learning something crucial
something literal, may one day eke a way into
beautiful persons conversation
beautiful people intent on being beautiful
are only beautiful and nothing
if not beautiful.

As for the cockeyed slim-jim like me
I’ve got a lot of learning to do
my hopes of ever being beautiful have long since passed
I thank the Gods and technology for the quest to question
and the simple beauty of not being beautiful

For if I knew nothing except how to be beautiful
I’d be lost for last words
and as for being beautiful
I’d be nothing if
only beautiful