words

Tell Me True

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bracelet

Of all the dalliances I’ve had, this boy is the most, shall we say, puppy dog like. Maybe it’s the age thing, the younger they are, the more needy they seem.

The distance doesn’t help, of course. I find myself giving out reassurances that I may not be able to sustain, so I stopped giving them. Unsurprisingly, this did not go over well on the other side of the ocean. There was radio silence for days. And then there was that one night we were messaging, when he sends me a missive: “Tell me you do not love anyone.”

That made me pause, mid-key. I’ve just been given a sort of ultimatum, and the skittish girl in me wanted to run, fast. But then I thought, if I do not love anyone, that makes for such a sad life. If I do have a love and it’s someone else, that will not be palatable to him as well. Maybe it’s the grammar that needs work, some nuance lost in translation, but I get the feeling he is looking for something that may not be there. And so, there is no happy answer to that bit of chat, no emoticons that can ease the heart into believing all is well.

That’s the flip side of asking for the truth, you might learn more than you care to know.

This Desire

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This one beckons to me.

.

I haven’t forgotten
how it feels to be desired.
Though I can’t quite decide
if that is blessing or curse,
and I’m not one for remorse
or small mercies
or false memories anyway.

Anyway, it’s cruel
to just look away.
Desire wants the rapt attention
the blind affirmation
of the widening iris —
the rush of blood to cheek —
it wants its own hubris.

Any which way
but dead, or so they say.
As though the furtive glance
the promise of some romance
that dark little gleam in the eye
is everything, is anything
but a lie.

.

this is the price you pay for time traveling

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(I told you so)

stop flitting about like a stupid moth
blind despite the etched eye open and
unblinking on its downy wing

(What did I say)

choose a year or two — even ten –
to inhabit, unravel the silk of it, weave
sense into story as you sit.

(What did you do)

you flew. you flew! you cut through countries,
histories, whole decades like it was legal
to navigate between worlds.

(I warned you)

And now everywhere the air is foul
replete with turmoil. you turn hostile
a ghost trapped in the portal

(What did I say)

your dark velvet mouth spewing out
curdled black bile meant to hurt,
but inutile as strange fruit

(I warned you)

you’ve become a thing whose only threat is
the flesh that promises sourness
the pit filled with the intent to choke.

(I told you so)

The Secret to Invisibility

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One way to be lost is to back pedal 
over tracks. Reverse step into each footprint, 
match heel and toe exactly so you become 
invisible, erased as cleanly as 
that puff of breath exhaled into fog.
 
Another way, much more subtle 
but just as easy, is to insert oneself into crowds. 
Follow the pace of the horde, shuffle quietly
shoulder to shoulder, sidle in sideways 
and become absolutely hidden. 
 
This is the true double-cross.  
We are so alike we render ourselves translucent, 
float like tiny fish under the current, 
become white noise, indistinguishable 
from the rest of the confusion.
 
The real secret to disappearing though, 
is to live out in the open, back to the sun —
faceless, and acquiescing. The camouflage
of so many single weeds blanketing an empty lot, 
verdant, sweeping, and ultimately, unseen.