surprise party by pinkyhonor
yesterday's zombie.
i have all the lights on, there's not a shadow amongst them to hold out its hand
__(from my white desk i would watch you sleep , turn my music off at 4am to hear you better ,
your breath: the night's ocean )
and you'd smile at me at 9 when you woke up.
this bike makes an odd noise , the cold wind hurts my neck.
at least i've forgotten about my hands.
someday i'll find this dream again, hug it tenderly , and remember what love is to hold.
there's morning, and afternoon, and then night. __this much i know.
sometimes there's more than that.
__(around me people dance. i'm not sure what i'm supposed to do. one body moving alone
makes little sense. (how these stars burn so far away from each other. (not a shadow amongst them - their hands can't reach
and then night and then a heavierest blanket that comes after ,
i thought maybe a pot-plant but its breaths sound wrong and its skin doesn't glow like yours.
the treadmill and i disagree about a few things and part ways early.
someone's tied strings to my bike pedals so i drag two and a half happy years behind me as i try and get home.
__the bike makes an odd noise , the cold wind hurts my neck.
i haven't forgotten what happiness feels like. _(white light). _(so vulnerable__,
_______________________________________ ___the hush of sunrise could scare it away)
an echo of it is trapped, i hear it bouncing around like warm summertime streets after dark.
someone asks me so, what brings you here? and i say that i was in a dream once but got lost. other than that, i don't know.
__she doesn't understand and i don't explain.
i hesitate to turn the lights off. i let each day linger as long as i can hold it.
when i'm alone with it - with silence and with night -
when i'm alone ...
i'm alone.
i stack my logic back up on the shelf , and measure its corners for right-angles ,
in my underwear dance slowly staring at nothing in the mirror listening to my wake-up alarm,
waiting to be overtaken by the treadmill and restless fridays i hope to drop and see crawl away splintered and sad never to be remembered.
in vietnam, when we were sick, and i was hot and you couldn't eat - only hot water with ginger and honey,
i'm terrified of airplanes now. did you know that?, have you heard?
can't face the departure board without becoming panic stricken. when i pay for my ticket i know i'll pay.
it's a high price to be a man nowadays.
(and who knows if you ever get the genuine thing).
i tell her i got lost in my happiness and ended up here. __she doesn't understand.
the bike leans awkwardly against the stairwell and i stumble up the stairs nauseous.
on wednesdays i'd feel like this and we'd hide in your room till i stopped shaking
and convulsing through the night.
(any minute now i'll land and then i'll work out where i am)
any minute now.
every time i divide i'm left with a remainder that chases me.
yesterday's tulip yesterday's zombie.
at least i've forgotten my hands.
someday i'll find this dream again, hug it tenderly , and remember what love is to hold.
there's morning, and afternoon, and then night. __this much i know.
Friday, October 14, 2011
notapoem.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment