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Nat Lipstadt Jul 2013
First impression, first date.

You come late, a major sin in your own lexicon,
tango dancing redesigns your hair to curls atwitter,
despite remedial ministrations in taxi,
you text apologies profuse en route,
but you have been outed, and
I am charmingly amused

A warm December eve,
a local Italian eatery,
table by the window,
red wine floes melt your defenses,
allowances made, you're intrigued,
enjoying  our dinner of
charming amusements

But really you like my understated swagger.
I like that you like my understated swagger.

Walk home armed, arm in arm,
your paintings I must come see,
Immediately (!),
You offered this as  desert, instead  of biscotti,
a tour of your new apartment, sleek/simple,
messaging that this is me,
if you ever want to be invited to stay

Inspection over, my smile is a knowing
that this first foray deserves a concessionary accolade,
So in a mode so gallant at the front door,
Adieu you are bid, and devilishly clever,
I merely shake you hand,
leaving you delighted by this gallant, modern,
charming amusement

Looking at my watch, three and half hours
have passed.

Maintaing that in your ways set,
Early on, I challenge your rigidity,
Turning your hair from curly,
Into spun straight Rapunzel gold liquidity,
By asking politely, humbly, on bended knee,
You give in happily,
Charmed, amused at my ferocious insistence

Looking at my watch,
I too, am delighted, charmed, amused, to discover,
It seems my watch is running slow,
For it is now three and a half years later
Perhaps you saw "First Date"that I dashed off but 2 days ago, then I stumbled on this on written March 24, 2012.   Ah well, too many poems, not enough memory - but thru poetry the key ones preserved in different ways.  Early in our story, she of curly hair came home straight (straightened?) at the whim of her hairdresser.  God strike me down, scout's honor (cub), when she opened the door, I fell to my knees,
begging  her never to be curly again.

And she never has...
It’s a Hard Knocks Life.
Learn, unlearn, violence, survive, thrive, and drive on.
The old mind.

To sit and listen to the words being uttered by those who have seen many things and done many but have not been through many winters.

The mind like the liver, always replenishing, always detoxifying, understanding sordid experiences, taking in only that which is needed and defecating that which is not.

The old mind, an androgynous creature of the divine, collector of tales, never a shape but ethereal, and delicate.  

A place where I would return to become young, to empty my thoughts of judgements, to sacrifice and become anew.  

The old mind like the snake sheds its designer skin of camouflage.

Life and-or death, but the old mind remains.  Knowledge replenished.  Identity affirmed, the old mind becomes a new, designs and redesigns, coalesce living experiences.
Austine Jul 2015
With the wisdom that your tongue spells out beneath those lips
With the wondrous adventures ahead of us that we have to to explore
With your lovely, lovely personality that redesigns and navigates me whenever I feel indefinite
With all my tomorrows spent with contentment for I have you, like the ocean that never ends
With all of you that makes all of me glow
With your laughter echoing in my ears
With the warmth of your hand like the setting of the afternoon sun
With your eyes, deep and calm like my own pool of serenity and peace of mind
With your body as my cocoon amidst my fragility over things I cannot control
With your voice like the summer breeze flowing swiftly through my ears
With your existence in my life still remaining a mystery I wouldn’t want to solve just so we’ll remain as two cosmic drifters getting lost but feeling more found than ever

— The End —