the disappearing room
when i was a child the church i went to
had a gathering room where sunday school classes
where held or pot luck gatherings you know
just a general meeting room between the chapel
and the offices. later when i visited this church
as a young adult the room was gone, but
it wasn't like the other rooms had gotten larger
no signs of remodeling. it had just disappeared.
*
the cutest kitty in the house is the color of shadow
or a florida summer storm. bands of gray over gray
the cutest kitty in the house is the hardest to pet
even tho she purrs as loud as the redhead who loves
to be picked up. the cutest kitty will only want you
of you're typing or otherwise engaged but if you give her
your full attention she moves away, looks you in the eye
only from across the room. meows pet me
rub my tummy, love me. brb
*
before i arrive you're
waiting, in a new place with old thoughts.
i am strangely at home, finger
your possessions as if they were old friends
know your album collection as intimately as my own.
there is a table beside the hot tub where we smoke
and drink coffee. when you run
back to your apt to refill and empty, i strip
and float in the tub, trying to ease the pain
in my neck. it's been raining all weekend
but right now the stars are bright, the tub secluded
in a bubble of darkness and shrub. i don't
have very long till you're back so it's only
a temporary release. later you may see me
nude, but i haven't decided yet .
still the deck is above the river, the night is warm, not
muggy, there are palms silhouetted in the ambient light
it's pretty close to paradise, even tho it's home.
above us, there is a star, moving like a jet. or possibly a jet
that appears to be a star. you don't see it
because your lasik was not 20/20. still they took off
a half inch of cornea. i wonder if
they used it for transplant. i am scared
of lasik. i do not want to be completely
blind. or completely focused for that matter.
in the morning you prepare eggs, bacon, toast
and mushrooms. i think of the psychedelics you took
which i didn't. it never ceases to amaze me
the things we can forget.
we load up for the beach
because the rain seems to be moving west. i want to drive
because i won't have to move my skimboard
to your car. you suggest north to the jetties i want
to go south to some memories. do a drive by exorcism.
you think there are parking meters on the roads i know.
i think you may be mistaken, further on, i know a few
roads. eventually we're both right. just past the split
on a1a there is a road with access and no meters.
i write this now so that next time i go over there
i can find it again. you make your own mental note.
*
the sea turtle tracks lead
from the ocean and back. the nest is an imprint
of a prayer with amphibious hands.
i'm working out company
and distance, you're speaking
in secrets and shells
we're about to dive for a long minute.
perfect time to meet
and part like jellyfish dancing .
your eyes are better with sunglasses on.
my sighs are better with a soundtrack.
i wear a straw cowgirl hat.
*
downpour
drenching droughted
wetlands. my home.through rivers
of tar, yesterday's wilderness
endures. through the tantulum
capacities, the space program, the six
main precepts and sixty four nintendo bits
pastures can still be seen
filled with gators and poisonous snakes
whooping cranes and black egrets two hundred
year old live oaks embrace the earth
with their arms my home
out there off the interstate, thru
the rain thru the mist passing and past, dreamed
of still.
*
on the other side of orlando the sun
makes his first set since forever.
a week of non stop rain, hurricane out
of season, holiday of memories, sky
the color of ghosts. gloriously orange
while bach plays on the mp3, a 30 second
blinder, beauty in goodbyes, loosing the clasp
on the box in which i've kept you
so what's inside can rise again, helium
or some lighter chemical perhaps, like free.
had a gathering room where sunday school classes
where held or pot luck gatherings you know
just a general meeting room between the chapel
and the offices. later when i visited this church
as a young adult the room was gone, but
it wasn't like the other rooms had gotten larger
no signs of remodeling. it had just disappeared.
*
the cutest kitty in the house is the color of shadow
or a florida summer storm. bands of gray over gray
the cutest kitty in the house is the hardest to pet
even tho she purrs as loud as the redhead who loves
to be picked up. the cutest kitty will only want you
of you're typing or otherwise engaged but if you give her
your full attention she moves away, looks you in the eye
only from across the room. meows pet me
rub my tummy, love me. brb
*
before i arrive you're
waiting, in a new place with old thoughts.
i am strangely at home, finger
your possessions as if they were old friends
know your album collection as intimately as my own.
there is a table beside the hot tub where we smoke
and drink coffee. when you run
back to your apt to refill and empty, i strip
and float in the tub, trying to ease the pain
in my neck. it's been raining all weekend
but right now the stars are bright, the tub secluded
in a bubble of darkness and shrub. i don't
have very long till you're back so it's only
a temporary release. later you may see me
nude, but i haven't decided yet .
still the deck is above the river, the night is warm, not
muggy, there are palms silhouetted in the ambient light
it's pretty close to paradise, even tho it's home.
above us, there is a star, moving like a jet. or possibly a jet
that appears to be a star. you don't see it
because your lasik was not 20/20. still they took off
a half inch of cornea. i wonder if
they used it for transplant. i am scared
of lasik. i do not want to be completely
blind. or completely focused for that matter.
in the morning you prepare eggs, bacon, toast
and mushrooms. i think of the psychedelics you took
which i didn't. it never ceases to amaze me
the things we can forget.
we load up for the beach
because the rain seems to be moving west. i want to drive
because i won't have to move my skimboard
to your car. you suggest north to the jetties i want
to go south to some memories. do a drive by exorcism.
you think there are parking meters on the roads i know.
i think you may be mistaken, further on, i know a few
roads. eventually we're both right. just past the split
on a1a there is a road with access and no meters.
i write this now so that next time i go over there
i can find it again. you make your own mental note.
*
the sea turtle tracks lead
from the ocean and back. the nest is an imprint
of a prayer with amphibious hands.
i'm working out company
and distance, you're speaking
in secrets and shells
we're about to dive for a long minute.
perfect time to meet
and part like jellyfish dancing .
your eyes are better with sunglasses on.
my sighs are better with a soundtrack.
i wear a straw cowgirl hat.
*
downpour
drenching droughted
wetlands. my home.through rivers
of tar, yesterday's wilderness
endures. through the tantulum
capacities, the space program, the six
main precepts and sixty four nintendo bits
pastures can still be seen
filled with gators and poisonous snakes
whooping cranes and black egrets two hundred
year old live oaks embrace the earth
with their arms my home
out there off the interstate, thru
the rain thru the mist passing and past, dreamed
of still.
*
on the other side of orlando the sun
makes his first set since forever.
a week of non stop rain, hurricane out
of season, holiday of memories, sky
the color of ghosts. gloriously orange
while bach plays on the mp3, a 30 second
blinder, beauty in goodbyes, loosing the clasp
on the box in which i've kept you
so what's inside can rise again, helium
or some lighter chemical perhaps, like free.
posted by hiccup at 11:54 AM
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