September 2005

                       

 

Water Lessons

 
Your first water memory may leave 
its high mark on your mind

or some weekend on the way to summer,
might have its way with you.

An all too edgy thought, could kill 
the rest of your water image,

beach ritual, sad motel scene, cold, 
wet, sandy twosome, first encounter.

We are well-prepared for an American cult
of boredom and pedestrian expectation. 

Thinking in a drunken voice or 
tubing in Aruba you could miss 
earth and heaven reflecting the rays, 

miss the true shimmer while chasing 
love trailers on the move. 

The pre-fab parts are waiting.

My heart is open to all the gods,
Frazetta heroes and Gieger monsters. 

My non-fat, non-sexual version is still
holding on to a warm pocket dream,

the you-blew-it project of a lifetime, 
first bra memory, whale bone,
marine curve, adventures with the
I'm-groovy crowd, a friend of

sacrifice, wedding silk and 
all its embroidered stiffness.

I'm use to the little shops of 
porn flowers, goat skins and 

brothel hangings, I even saw the first
article of clothing removed on a date 
displayed in a bay window
recollection of neo-noir abandon. 

Dark winged chapter headings, like… 

"If you start sleeping with me , I promise I'll put my shoes on the other side of the bed.

 
I have studied the intoxication 
of the pre-pubescent artist on his

Persian carpet fantasy, seen his 
odalisque collection stuffed between

how-2-books and a spider web, 
one that catches mist but not you.