. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . "lighthouse at night (light on)"
. . . . .. . . . . . . . . "lighthouse at night (light off)""hey friend, you got a light?"
the love i feel from you now is that of a sister
or a neighbor. i gaze at your hands expecting to see
a revolver or cookies.
you have the look of a soldier returning from
a 6 year tour of duty. a lighthouse keeper
about to see sun.
and with a condescending nod
toward my unconditional love
(of mixed metaphors & bad puns)
you have the look of a seamstress
who has jumped ship in midseam.
i walk away with a bitter taste
that i selfishly season to suit my palate:
a dash of spite,
a pinch of anger,
and for good measure -
a smidgen of rhetorical flair.
nothing is expected now.
you have flipped everything off.
you have hit the last light.
from your side
a dead bolt slides
and from mine
this final line.
(from the chapbook TRYING TO UNRAVEL SOMETHING, ANYTHING, 1997 - originally titled "the gate is sealed," re-worked in 2009 as "hey friend - you got a light?")
. . .
from your side
a dead bolt slides
and from mine
this final line.
(from the chapbook TRYING TO UNRAVEL SOMETHING, ANYTHING, 1997 - originally titled "the gate is sealed," re-worked in 2009 as "hey friend - you got a light?")
. . .
1 comment:
ahhh . . . did him get him's feelings hurt by another BAD, BAD woman?
here's an idea buddy: go to eBay and bid on some balls.
and also - why don't you get off your lazy ass for a change poet-boy and actually write a *new* poem about your latest "pain" instead of this recycled crap from 1997 that sucked then and will always suck no matter how many times that you "re-work" it.
just a thought.
(douche bag)
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