Sweet Loraine linked her thoughts to her soul
Picked up a pen with paper twas' all she was to know
Sitting there nice all throughout the hot night
She gripped her pen but not her soul so tight

Morning broke quick as she picked up her lids
Coffee was burnt and the baby had unbottoned her bib
Looking right down at a paper that shone gold
As if God had come down showed her what she'd already known

Grey moving monday with the streets looking bleak
Her mouthed move fast but not a thing came to speak
On the road she put her feet shoes ain't even on
Humming to herself to the grocery in a weird kind of song

Neat old ****** was the way she lived her life
Tapping away with her fingers and the tips of her toes
Baby grew up to be the president of the world
Ain't ever gonna listen to what he'll be told

One dimensional
That's a good phrase for what we are
We tease, we play, sometimes we talk
Mostly we lust
And that's it

I have grown accustomed to your body
Your pale shoulder blades
and the light that shines through
your bedroom window
illuminating your body

The way you say my name
like no other man
has ever said my name

The compliments you give me
on my small waist,
my *******,
my hair,
my eyes,
my laugh

Our relationship has become
safe, standard

But the other night
You kissed my neck
Normal
You kissed my mouth
Normal
You told me you cared
Not so normal

This is not our usual rapport
Instead of replying
with any semblance of concern
I unbottoned your shirt

And as I kissed the soft skin
Of your hips
Your belly
Your chest
I heard something novel

It was your heartbeat,
so excited to be near me --
It was so intimate,
I almost withdrew
But I only held you tighter

When I sat on the edge of your mattress
Fighting sleep
While you laid behind me, eyes closed
You traced the outline of my spine
Your touch so gentle
It sent shivers through my body

I kissed you
Not out of lust
But because
you made me so happy that night

Today I saw you on the street.
You looked right through me.

I had the option of reaching out
And I didn't
I won't put the blame on you
But it left me so conflicted

How am I supposed to express my feelings
genuine, real feelings
when I can't even find the nerve
to say hello

Is nothing special really
I am in my blue checkered boxers
Wearing an unbottoned green flannel
Getting ready for my fourth beer
Listening to classical that I only
Listen to when I drink and/or read
And/or write
And I keep shutting off the typewriter and picking up
James Thurber and the Goethe
And I keep thinking
Wait until spring Suarez
It means something to me today
And then I drop it all
To pick up the beer
There are grapefruits and a cactus
In a broken planter on the tile floor
There is soil and coffee grounds
Down there too
And used shaving razors and Q-tips
And old beers and bad poems
And this one should be there with all
The other trash
But it's here instead
Oh well...
The life and
The sun and
The breeze and
The lungs
Oh well...
Last week I accidentally
Smashed my bookcase while I was
Drunk
And now there are three horrifying
Stacks
Beside my bed
And I hope their dusts
Infect me with their cancer
Forever
Oh well...

no time to take of his coat
to put away his briefcase or hat
she just sat there at the kitchen table and
looked with the saddest eyes
he unbottoned
got his gin
she threw her ring on the kitchen floor
looked at the plates and the stove
she hadn't cleaned
and all the years
fell down