Retreating

it's as if, today,

the rain that winston-salem

avoided for so long

(a whopping week & a half)

was unleashed today

spilling about the city.

it was

only good because the rain

washed the thick layer of pollen

off the hood of my car.

my ipod somehow lost all the

music on it.

that's cool.

got me thinking about how

i grow tired

& all of a sudden things turn

dark.

the shades close & it doesn't

feel

quite right.

my heart slows, but each beat

more like a stomp

than a

step. each pulse

vibrates my lids & things

start to go blurry. only then i feel

tranquil throughout.

tell me, did you slip something in

my water?

were you scratching my back gently until

my eyes were at half mast.

till my tongue was numb?

& my tongue is

numb still.

that feeling of elation that seems to

have faded on your end of the hall

hasn't quite done the same here.

so i wait for you.

i suppose it's that

less than subtle

stroke of naivete

that colors

my character. i suppose i shouldn't

wait but you're so captivating

ma'am.

so what if you catch my eye. so what if

you chill

my bones & my ligaments

tense up.

so what if i stare at the ceiling wishing

you would walk in

& whisper

to me. don't really

care what

about. just

whisper, dear. you never seem to do

so. i must be overbearing,

the way i think

& feel

about you. i suppose it's

a bit

much.

i'm sorry but you

are

beautiful: just beautiful:

beautiful:

thank you:

i think i take you more seriously everyday

& you (understandably)

disconcert

just about all i say now. i suppose i wouldn't care much if i

were in your position either.

i'm quite the nuisance.

i'm sorry but i

mis yr fce.

"I've a layer of film & a coat of dust

Made solid in the kiln with a smile bent in rust."

"sous la plage" by benoit pioulard.

oh. & here's a poem i love by w.s. dipiero: "skirts & slacks"