Musings on a Placid Day in September (9/28/05)

I leave you for a while to
sit in Theology class
and scribble lines,
trying to remember who I was
before I arrived
at this temporary
exchange of lives.
I press my tongue to
the knight in winter,
hoping to extend this process
by fleshing it out a little.
This is not high school,
I tell myself.

You should know
that I take pills
for the condition
you put me in.
The male species
overwhelms me and
you rhythm quite lovely
against this thick stretch
of mind gaping.
My slow beat, my feet
drip against
your webpages
full of words.

You remind me of songs
about staying in all night
cause baby, it’s cold outside
and where are you going anyway?
Off again to
envision me as if my
rhythms matched your speed.

You should know
that only the poets move me.
(Honey-tongues stick together.)
And you,
you got up there
like God,
a hard thing
to get over.

I have tasted winter knights--
like galvanized dreams
that condense off the
tongue—and
sometimes it’s hard to
let them go.

Screenwriters and Movie Stars

If I see them one day,
walking somewhere,
shall I thank them for
telling me such great stories
over the years-
Or curse them for
lying to me for so long?