Somewhere in Thursday

july 30 2010

it’s time to leave her ebony tower
armed with prepaid patience
potent voltage evaporates into incandescence
and so without tears or farewell
 ‘I’ll be back in an hour’

the ride over the bridge is brief
high over the east river
diaphanous mist hangs low
where an hour ago
we suspended our disbelief

all the while in a blue van she reaches for gold
but when asked to sing
she delivers a soliloquy instead
of the pearls
of sweat on our bread
she hits every right note
and we don’t regret a thing

the line that serves itself stretches across from point A to B
the one that is being served curved right
behind that door
and the least one never is
they are respectively the of, by and for
and though not parallel they never meet
while being one in a series of infinite finer points
you may have heard
two little fanatics playing with a third

we emit
an embrace designed to delight
she laughs an ode
to happiness

and an automatic pilot stands there looking lost
so silent you can drop a pin
which way to the cockpit?
do you think they’ll let me in?

awareness is never bliss
so she isn’t and she is
watching us kiss
as if she planned the whole thing
an hour ago over coffee and cream.
why do you think my shirt isn’t clean?
so go now funny man and if you miss me too soon
i’ll see you in my next lucid dream