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                              I

‘Tick-tock’- the hands of the clock cruelly sound

Like a blade held against the whetting stone

Each second seems some new spark now rising,

Vaguely phosphorescent, disappearing

Like souls passing into infinity

Striking the hearthstone, then- into nothing

 

Streetside the scarlet-colored cyclamens

Sway with the weight of the wind’s warm whispers

While the slow fall of the night’s first fireflies

So strangely flickers in the vast expanse

Of the ever-darkening western sky,

Flitting like your recently struck match heads,

Blooming, instantaneously beyond

The pale recognition of their blossoms-

Those freshly plucked petals, faintly falling,

Lingering like fingers of heat lightning

Surrounding you in a velveteen gale

 

Darkness creeps in like a quiet lover

To brush away the pale blush of blue sky,

The delicate cobwebs of the last clouds-

White fluff, intricately woven with jewels,

Where each star hangs like a frail drop of dew

Encroaching night whispers a wine-dark flush

Along the expanse of the horizon,

Kisses the day into unconsciousness

(All is enveloped in this quietness

While we hold our breath for the moon to rise)

 

                              II

I get so god-damned depressed when I drink

That sometimes I could just drop dead, except

There is something hidden in your sly smile

And the way you dance makes me feel relieved

Just to know you are breathing I suppose

(Although a hundred pairs of hungry eyes-

Lights dimmed by the virtue of drunkenness-

Stare straight through me to steal a glimpse of you,

To somehow satiate their cold desires)

And there are of course your glimmering eyes,

Glinting with the mischievousness of drink

 

Your body sways like the hypnotists chain

So I stand transfixed, tapping out the beat

With my free hand as the band rambles on

(The other is still tight against your hip-

Two fingers through the belt loop of your jeans)

As I watch you sip your whiskey and coke

And smoke cigarette after cigarette,

The blue haze of your exhalations hangs

In relief against the late-summer sky,

Each breath falling like boats in a harbor

Rising again with each whim of the waves

Ebbing to and fro amidst the moonlight

Floating me headlong into elation

(My heart swells up like a birthday balloon)

 

(This somnambulist strains his tired eyes,

Opening them like a revelation:

I know that I shall spend my future days

Waiting to climb into bed beside you

Dreaming only of the way you would kiss)

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