February 7
foreign date,
someone's yesterday fantasy,
you cannot come home
to a real lover
now,
she's not there,
she ruined the fantasy
with her leaving you
cold at the airport

now,
you can tear down
everything
she stood for

so you can feel
comfortable
in your safe palace
filled with
sweet smiling nymphs
who stroke your swollen ego

maybe now
you can find
your ideal woman.

Why do you make me so uncomfortable
standing there just so quietly, waiting,
for words which just aren't there

If we could reel back time
I would retract that promise which
somehow was expressed to you,
probably by an intimate embrace
or perhaps by a mirrored reflection
of your own fantasy

But let me just say - I wish you
would comfort me by your absence

Images of a man and woman
come forth,
they look so fine together
their personal nightmare restrained

like figures forming a play
they seem so pleasant
carrying on in the day's light

what is clear is never questioned
sad, that we may have been spared.

Bright yellow and green
in motion
no choo-choo childhood fantasy
no miniature red caboose,
just rows of somber business faces
drained of all emotion,
which they store in old glass jars
at home
in some out of the way closet
along with
old after-shave and perfumes,
no long usable
on party occasions
because their faces feel too vulnerable.

How often could it happen
we came upon each other suddenly
passing as two figures in the darkness,
strangers to one another
yet, we shared a beautiful feeling
as we embraced each other's soul
and afterwards I felt like crying
for I have loved her always
(and her smile tells me she agrees).

On the train tonight
a madman shouted out
that I live a life of pretense
filled with clever false images

I should have strangled him there
but he was right -
the lies have to stop somewhere.

Its been a great long ride
but I don't want to leave you yet
all the fond memories go whisking by like a flaming rocket
a reluctant witness to the eternal cycle of life and death

I know you don't want to hear this
and neither do I
but the realist within
showed up like a show pony
prancing to the band

I wish  could tell you
what's on the other side

Fall of my years
come sweetly
come easily
take my hand and walk with me
Promise to be gentle.