namaste.

exit 259: infinity
and
beyond

so you took another hit
turned the wheel 90 degrees
towards an exit with no exit

i didn't try to stop you

maybe i should have, or at least that's what i thought when the car went skidding on its top across the four lane skyway. the view was nice, or what i could see of it through the shattered sun roof looked appealing --

and from my peripherals
i could see you with
your hands to your heart
clasped together
in meditation
and as we went crashing
into the pacific
you bowed forward and
whispered
"namaste"

sinking to the bottom and we had our most meaningful conversation
talking about fate and life and all its many crashes
and the one-hundred plus speeding trips we would take
that was like love, for the first time;
with a metal tip you etched into my hand
"never forget"

it took me until we reached the bottom to realize what you meant. your infinity was already over, denoted by a hard blow to the steering wheel, and i was looking through the windshield at schools of silver fish catching their scales by the sunlight on the surface. "never forget" - never referred to life or to the things one experiences, but instead - that life is not exclusively ours, bottled up in a pickle jar like lightening bugs you caught and kept on your nightstand. every life will drown one day. every life is replaceable - none are immortal. "never forget" - what you do is probably temporary. but if temporary touches a life, forgetting that each breathes and lives accordingly is a never kind of thing.

mi gato es irritante

you annoy me more than
any living creature -
your incapacity to sleep past
dusk, and the rolling of feet
against my hardwood floors -

having to obey your every
command, picking up after
your momentary lack in
judgment, holding you when
life is - literally - falling in on you.

but it is the sound of your soft
gratitude, the feeling of your
furry warmth on cold winter
mornings, the precious greeting
as soon as i open the door

that makes you more precious
and more loyal to me
than any other living being.

winter's love

two red
cardinals sit
on the white patch of grass,
marveling at the cold winter
beneath.

dear gang member:

you are my deconstructive era:
the deconstruction of
per-son-al-ity,
of the teardrop permanently
attached in black ink to
the space between tear duct
and cheek's apple.

i am your neoclassic era:
the result of hours not spent opening
nostrils to lines of snow
or to the delicate slice of knife
versus neck versus vein
no longer felt, too bad,
too bad --

ignored except in second glance
where the inscription on your arm
blazes into the memory of my eye,
causing curiosity until the
next moment of flavored smoke,
a laugh, and a smile.

the eloquence of dance

how i would love
to watch your shadow
dancing with the light on
the white of my burgundy walls;

tango with danger,
foxtrot with romance,
waltz with occupation,

but with me, your dancing
is a perfectly miscalculated
swing dance, the compliment/
complication of

hips
meeting
legs
meeting
hands
meeting
lips

and yet all we hear is the
reverberation of manic laughter,
circling the pulsation of
living attraction, and severing
it at every weak spot.

something about infinity

of obsession: the fool, unlimited possibilities
and limited in perception - the
christopher sly of romance, the drunken,
staggering of belief in a young man
mistaken for a beautiful maiden;
(but who is to say gender is anything?
he could hurt me as much as she
and maybe they, they they)
repetition of heartbreak in formidable
ways.

of future: the high priestess, hidden
emotion, practicality - the cesario/
olivia complex. hidden from beauty.

in the shaking of a
dark room, under the influence of
doxylamine, where
a hand is poison to the
insomniac mind -

a nightmare, fresh in the mind,
sweet as a ripened berry and
toxic, toxic, toxic to the mind;
your hand, my face, pull closer,
eyes shut... revelation is that,

with every second you spent
pulling at my hypothetical strings,
i spent two hundred fold
staring at the wall in front of me,
trying to forget.