There are the trees, dancing obliviously
Seemingly free but they can never marry the wind
As she is a tease, touches and goes
Touch, and go
“Bad boys will be bad forever so get bad or walk away
Bad boys will be bad forever so get bad or walk away”
Typing over and over, meditating
Like the sound of Picollo snares under the rain
Channeling something superior, channeling
The uncut version of things:
Leftover sweets by the bed
Wine and vinegar in my belly
Stopping, pausing for a new set of typewriter
Putting fresh thoughts in the fridge
There are the kids, look at them laughing
I smell like adult: like sex and disappointment
I smile, walk away
I touch, I go
And what is your age?
How many wrinkles?
Wrinkles from smiles or lines after frowns?
Does it matter how, though?
Here’s the map of my life, on my face
-you like it on the face?-
Fingernails that never grow long enough
To scratch someone’s face in defence
Bad forever, or walk away
There are the names, Dorothy and Samantha and Jane
Safe, predictable and content
Here is mine, incongruous with my surename
With my country of birth
Nationality
Place of origin
Current address
Touch, and go
And here we are
Sitting where we sat before,
Years ago much happier, much more confused
About the way things go
I accept the color of things
And I accept the names
The wrinkles
Walking away
And the superiority of the sound that says: stay.
April / 26, 2014
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