dmseay

told her she had soul…

said i loved her…she kissed harder…held tighter…

tell me…please say it…,a blushing face shined…her head shook no…

pulled me closer…deep kisses reaching down to the guts… real …nothing fake…’tween two lovers… not coming-up for air…,goddammit say it…,the broad would not buckle…

love marked body… heart full of poems… insatiable insanity never cured…always wanting…her…

don’t say i love you…your actions yell out…why have i been deaf…enjoy silence…shhh…

her hands spoke… legs…belly…those emerald eyes…mouth upon mine…oh…she has said I love you…yes…she has…

words are wasted…it is the kiss…touch… laughs…wrapped ’round each other as The Antiques Road Show spoke of found treasures in attics…basements…garage sales…under sheets…

we found our’s…

stay silent my sweetest…

i hear you…i hear you…

he always had this nervous laugh…insecurities…as if caught…yes…caught…

telling tales of massage parlors…Russian broads…happy endings…grown men giggling like school girls getting notes in class…go home boys…go home…

away to your Internet porn…the kid down the hall…milk and cookies at midnight…a woman named Kate…secret’s safe with me…

office parties…remarks ’bout women in power and they don’t make ’em like mom anymore and my boy just made varsity and the lawn turned brown this year…do you have a point…

endless talk for the sake of talk…to hear one’s voice above the crowd…all calling-out for a limbo line…how low can you go…

and i will stay here…right here…and do what…yes…what…

write about you….

these faults…

paralysis…

always trying…stopped…what next…

stuck in the mire…why can’t we go forward…

fear…it’s always ’bout fear…

afraid of what is needed…yes…needed…

too much from past lives…stories of old ring true in the here and now…this moment…making us able to be…simply be…

an old man spends days thinking of a dearly departed one…ex-wives…ex-husbands…ex-lovers…Exxon…all with regrets…the one that got away…

and this is unfinished business…

keeping us in the mire…

i want out…

where were you, the old man asked, been lookin’ all-over…’round the house…down the street…hidin’…,picked his teeth as he sat there…just sat there…

went for a walk…

where…

a walk…I went for a walk…,swigged some water…wiped my eyes…

could’ve told me…maybe asked…

asked…

yea…might’ve needed ya’…

needed me…

hard ta’ believe…,he scoughed…,now-on…you ask…saavy…

yea pop…yea…

people think I’m some crazy old man…but…you’ll respect me goddammit…

yep… sure will…

what’s that ‘spose ta’ mean…

nothin’…absolutely nothin’…

your mom would ask ‘fore she left…got it…

uhhuh…

didn’t make a move…had her trained…you never followed suit…different…always different…

right…

the whole family did as they was told…not you…,coughed-up flem into a used handkerchief…

nope…not me…did not…

well you’re payin’ the price now ain’tcha boy…you’re the one that got stuck with me…

uh huh…

my caregiver…huh…some caregiver…I oughta take that car an’ just get outta Dodge…middle of the night…gone…

wouldn’t do that dad…

you gonna stop me…gonna take on the old man…

sit down pop…

all talk…was always all talk…

right…

you’ll see…wake-up after midnight an’ be gone…so-long sucker…

why wait…

uh…mmm….

go-on…keys are right there…go-head…

uh…some kinda joke boy…think you’re funny…

not laughing pop…

don’t think I won’t…

waitin’….count of three…I’ll take those keys and hide ’em…

you think…

1…

serious boy…

2…

fuckin’ with the wrong man…

3…

brought you into this world and I’ll take you out…

watched people…

all kinds…

just… walking through life…

most in a quick fashion…

never a stop…nothing noticed…

point A to point B to point C …..

straight line…linear…

no drunken nights…

nor kissing of strangers…

not a roll of the dice…

never to be at peace…real peace…tranquil…

love and be loved…

travels of a thousand miles while holding hands…

asleep…fast asleep with an occasional embrace throughout the night…

watching these people…

can tell…

they do not have that…

never came into play…

the lives of poets…Gypsies…madmen…women unafraid to dance…they seek peace…laughter…

and…money is made…

spent…

on what…what…

cheese steaks at 4 in the morning…rounds of beers…bottles of wine…ear rings bought on a moment’s notice…foolishness…foolishness…

well…

here’s to foolishness…

he’d stay-up watchin’ Joel Osteen…then Tony Robbins…flippin’ back and forth ‘tween the two…don’t know…maybe lookin’ for hope…somethin’….

said that Osteen prick had a real hot wife…sexy in some suburban Sunday school teacher sorta’ way…went-on how Robbins’ broads were prob’ly good-lookin’ too…he’d go on and on….

one night…he got all riled up…good an’ lathered…foamin’ at the mouth…talkin’ ’bout headin’ down ta’ Texas…findin’ Mrs. Osteen…showin’ her a thing or two…

that was his dream…ta’ make love ta’ Joel Osteen’s wife…all he wanted…

and…one day…he was gone…left over-night while I was asleep…who knows…been gone awhile now…all summer…

heard he wound-up in Amarillo…then I heard he got lost in some Utah desert…

anyway…hope he found her…he sure was in love…

he did crazy things…

like what…

stupid things…to prove her love…

yea…

drive her places…’cross country…leave…

just leave her…

yes…ta’ see if she’d come back…

did she…

most times…she’d call…yell…gone for a day…two…she’d show…

what would he do…

lock himself away…

away from…

everything…everyone…nothing…

I see…

wait…just wait for her to come through that door…sat in silence… front room…quiet t.v. …pictures…some news…

and…

one day…one week…she did not return…and weeks became months…he started to cry more…and stayed all to himself…afraid…

yea…afraid…

yes..of falling in love again…

Manhattan’s different with a lover…the predictable is predictable…hands held…hearts wooed…nights are no longer dark…

lots of laughter…kisses on strolls in Central Park…curry in Korea-town restaurants…knees touching under tables…

getting lost is wanted in Gotham…this isle of romance…swimming in dreams..forgetting one’s purpose… focus focus focus…

the poet’s hand no-longer bleeds…this filthy city is now at peace…gone is the eye of calling-out truth…love can make you lie…

and so we come to this…we come to this…will words of grit dance on the page once again…or…will a happy folly lead you astray…which way asks the fool…

the blank slate awaits…

tis good ta’ be back amongst the living…this Celtic lass by my side…my side…

she points out Maples…Oaks…Plane trees… Sycamores of Rittenhouse Square…holding a caloused hand…a caloused hand…

interest is taken… attention focused…on this woman…a breathing being like the leaves of green in early autumnal dew…so drawn-in…so drawn-in…

girls in tight-tops…yoga pants…revealing skirts…don’t hold a candle…never gazed upon…this emerald-eyed blonde holds the cards…

captivated…listening to nature’s list all night long…watching her lips…soon a kiss…soon…

ta’ be so lucky…

looking at this glass of dago red…

it has served me well…

through loves loved…claims of love…never was there love…

into nights of Ginsberg…Kerouac…Miller heckling America…alone we laughed…

and now we sit again…a turn at the page…poetry lingering…i cling to you…

it is night…you have entered my soul…

let the magic begin…