Red hair and black leather
My favorite color scheme
I miss the way you danced with me
But missing is not enough
I miss the way you held me close
Yet missing is not enough
I long for more of everything
And nothing is enough
I miss the way we laughed
words blur together
congealing
before eyes
brimming
with the sea
held back
by clustered
lashes
a stream spills down
pockmarked cheeks
lined with years
spilling onto
crisp paper
lips tremble
in silent
defeat
as a vice
grips the chest
caved in
from decades of
memories
a wet gaze looks up
at an apparition
from the past
but the present
commands
attention
to itself
it calls for
just a squiggle
on pristine pulp
but hands
paralyzed
with grief
cannot move
threats flew in
that stifling air
biting syllables
that rend
and tear
sign the damned papers
the hand moves
as unvoiced wails
rise up
from that
caved in chest
it is done
This is the very same old bridge.
I remember every bit of what once
happened here to be a matter to be
repeated time and again over several
of these past thirty five plus years,
You think perhaps I have forgotten
everything you said the first time
we met here unknown to each other.
I am with you today and that very day
has been with me all these years renewing
itself with every changing season as the day
grows longer or shares a part of it to make
our nights together longer for intenser moods
for a life of dense and complete experience.
Let’s then in growing humility acknowledge
all honest gifts of love and fulfillment this
bridge in its best stimulating silent presence
has bestowed upon us when we were strangers
to bridge our hearts for a happy marital boon for ever.
In my childhood every evening when
The moon came someone on his shoulders
Made me sit to beckon to the moon to come
To sit with us in our mud house on the flat
Earthen floor lighted in a very dim way
By our kerosene lamps and eat the cake
My mother with love would make for me
With rice powder and coconut paste.
The moon in its own smiling mood would
Play hide and seek with me with clouds
Covering it and now and then freeing it
For me to end my cries and tears and
Kicking in anger the shoulders that
Relentlessly supported me for the time
My mother prepared food when others
Were busy summing up the accounts
Of the daily family chores before dinner.
Stony pillow!
Stony pillow!
I’ve lost my mum!
Stony pillow!
Stony pillow!
Sleep is about to come!
Stony pillow !
Stony pillow!
Let me have a nap!
Stony pillow!
Stony pillow!
I miss my mom’s lap!
we sat on the hill behind the A&P
and mapped out our lives…
the girls we loved or would love
or were loving at the time
we were teens with dreams
and dreams with Marlboro dialogue
exporting smoke rings into a dark sky
the stars approving or disapproving
of our schemes.
as we waited for the bread truck
and the kind gentleman who felt
sorry for us, running away from home for a night
and gave us donuts
to soothe the pain of life…
then he came…
and we munched on glaze or sugar
supposing we were disposing of our blues
two friends
we sat on the hill behind the A&P
looking into a future
we would never easily find on a shelf
in that store,
not knowing what was in store
for us
looking back, my memory is still life
and i can only remember the names
of some of the girls we knew
and some of the girls we made up
but i know those donuts were real
and the glazed or sugar-coated times
tasted quite good
until the box was empty
the blues gone,
and it was time to walk home.
In the
neon hour
before sunrise
I am
in a
parking lot
looking at
a fence
that was
once my
old apartment
I spent
almost ten
years above
a paint
store across
from the
YMCA there
were three
roommates
then two
engagements
that were
doomed before
they started
not Romeo
and Juliette
doomed but
more like
Tom and Jerry
Tweety and Sylvester
Itchy and Scratchy
While E coyote
and the road runner
we chased
each other
through our
two bedrooms
with Acme
bought love
while anvils
fell hard
on all
our life
plans
back when
we thought
we knew
what we
were doing
back when
we thought
we had
nothing but
time.