He Never Knew Me Really
It is not the moon, I tell you
it is this jewelry -
it is these flowers -
They are just artifice
lighting the yard like grease
from an oil lamp.
I hate them.
They aren't for me.
I'm not so easily bought
yet he seems to think so.
I hate them as I hate sex.
Wait...no, that's not what I meant.
I hate them as I hate the man's mouth
smiling like the Cheshire Cat.
Sealing my mouth, the man's
breath becomes my own
and the cry into the stratosphere
of damasked flamingos
blunders into humiliating descent -
his premise and my removal.
The man never really knew me after all.
Joyride Ending
In my mind tonight grows a monotone of regret
I hear the question and pursuing answer seated behind you
fused in one sound - the sleek neon blue motorcycle
that mounts and dives into the slithering asphalt.
Our time is split - rumble, throttle, brake.
It couldn't always be this way.
Sidling next to the molecules of doubt,
I grew tired of always holding on
a bouncing jack-in-the-box for you to show off.
There is no we - anymore, nevermore, evermore
You were the ring master, I was along for the ride.
And the scent of orange Fall while swimming through lanes of traffic
drifts through the sealed window of my heart.
It seems like I always come full circle
this time of year belongs to you and your Yamaha.
How can I rest knowing I held back - always afraid you would laugh?
How can I be content when a silly inaction kept me from floating?
Next time - though it will be with someone new - I'll tickle the wind
and open the mask to breathe the dieseled mist.
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