October 9, 2008

originally written January 2007

smoked glass

the occasional snowflake drops outside
my future hangs in the air like smog in L.A.

i am the regal goat, always climbing
she is the crab, loyal and smiling

the question percolates in my mind’s eyes
in plain sight, but clouded by anxiety
jeremy said i should act first

in hindsight, that’s not really my style, then
again what do i know? i feel like i’m the only
one whose touched that nerve

speaking of which, i thought there’d be
more of us; the tainted sinners who
gave away their purity. problem is, i
don’t know how SHE’LL react to that

i miss the touch of a face against
mine, i miss the long embraces when
i left. someone happy to see me every time
like a puppy

it’s a bit like my fencing
no one takes it seriously until i show
them a bruise. gentlemen’s sport my ass

Pezzo di curnutu, tu mai tradutto me!
too little, too late; you still can’t tempt fate
knowledge is to wisdom as coincedence is to fate

this jacket is too big for me, but it’s lined
so i wear it anyways. maybe i’m Orsino,
looking for my Olivia when my soulmate is
right in front of me

i sniff my nose, i think i have a runny nose
my finger slides past my upper lip, i see the
red splash of blood on my skin, smell that
coppery tinge

my professor speaks of Ivan Ilyich, and his
untimely demise, and of the circle of life we
all end up a part of

a red wagon, the front wheels squeak
as i pull my teddy bear along the sidewalk
we were on an adventure, to what i don’t recall

i dream about Disneyland often, sometimes
i’m alone, sometimes i’m not. each time i awake
(to my great dispair) back home in bed, i realize
just how much i love that place

the light wafting arome of churros on main
street, the smell of the water on pirates
of the caribbean. that enormous room where
you get onto space mountain

the beauty of watching the columbia cruise by
with full sails. that distant chuga-chuga-chuga
of thunder mountain railroad

the perpetual hoots of the teacups’ music
as you walk around matterhorn. the words
on the page bring a tear to my eye

i hate that tension because of that car.
of course i liked that car, but it was never
mine. i just want to tell them the truth but
i can’t seem to do it

i want to go on a roller coaster.
class is just boring. then again, i’m not really
paying attention.



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