Hasn’t been a day

I’m rolling around the bricks in my head
that constructed
the path that lead us to this end

Don’t misunderstand me,
it’s not like things are over
actually, not by a long shot
since all I see is horizon from
east to west to north to south
And i’m looking in each direction
and in-between
to calculate the limitless

Sensing ghosts with the rings in my nose
extrasensory, aesthetic antennae
conduct the electric scent of your clothes
and body of the bed we shared without sharing
As a form of respect as a boarder
in a house that wasn’t ours
A multipurpose surface for sleeping
and movies, a process of educating for you
Since you hadn’t even seen
the classic Fletch, yet.
Oh, my soul, it hurts

But put it on the Underhill’s bill, señorita
Along with the price of gas
and your multiple meal tickets
I won’t sweat it
and neither should you.

The first time we met face to face
started first with your feet
as you kicked me
from my daydream state
at half past midnight on a Thursday
Anxiety at high noon, town square, sun blazing
I stared into eyes the first time,
saw that smile
the earth stood still for a moment
but the clock didn’t stop
tick tock tick tock tick tock
A step in hug with a twirl
you later pegged as unfair
but I’m a dirty player, and I never come unprepared
when I don’t know what I’m up against
and even if I do
I still have an ace up a sleeve or two.

“Who are you and
what does your friend do?
Where does she come from
and how did she come to know you?”
My friends pose these questions
like mannequins in a boutique, dressed
I know they’re there before entering thus
but I’m never quite prepared for
the outwardly obvious androgynous
calling us forward to answer the thoughts
but it’s easy enough to say
we met on the internet many years ago
and, as God would have it,
five years later we’ve maintained contact
Like a single thread
from two separate garments
strung 5 years apart
pulled closer and closer together
to realize they’re cut from the same cloth.

Who do I know that’s anything like you?
Nobody, in fact I feel my day is lacking
So, just like spending so much time
in the presence of a fire
When it goes out, goes away
or you step away from it for a moment
you feel the absence of the warmth
and light that it gives

Bonfire baby
Firebug frenzied
eyes stretched wide
to see my every movement
tiger claws out
to scratch the itch
to stab the myth that
even as a ginger she’s got a soul
that’s out of control like
the sound of a fire blazing down the hill
doing 80 miles per hour
in a whirlwind, tornado
only doing so in hopes
of somehow uprooting you
from your every day
hum drum activities
At least that’s how it was for me…

Five o’clock on a Saturday morning
came much to early
after 4 hours of sleep
because I stayed up too late
burning CD’s and
tearing a final goodnight from inside me
One last caress
and to our separate beds.
WIth all your luggage
we made our way to the airport
listening to songs about
cleaning ladies and vending machines
and secrets and the curse
and how things
just ain’t the same without you.
And the truth of that didn’t hit me until after
I saw the words to the song
when I got home.
I must admit I cried a little
there’s no shame in that
as I picked up, a bracelet
a lighter and a dogtag
left for me to remember you

People don’t like to leave
vacation places without
some sort of trinket that is
proof enough they’ve been there.
So, I wear this chain around my neck
with John 3:16 and a ring made of a wing
made out of metal and too small
to fit ’round the smallest of my fingers
And I like to touch the weight of it
And think of when I’ll go back
to the place where I left a lock and chain
along with a piece of myself
it, by all rights, protects and contains.

It hasn’t been a day
and I miss you already.
And it was so hard to leave you
in the hands of the TSA
to make sure you got on that plane OK
It hasn’t been a day
It hasn’t even been a day…


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