Like A King Wants His Queen

.5:30 pm

An organic metal formed instantaneously
in an old woman's hallway closet
she was not aware of this
it befriended her vacuum cleaner
and looked warily at an old umbrella
there was nothing to be done about it
sooner or later it would be assimilated
and it never happened at all

.5:40 pm

punctiliunctious perspective proved powerless
that's what they say - and they've said it before
you can knock down drag out a moot point
it will be rememberized only by casual observers
hailing cabs, balancing packages, reciting recipes, rememberizing
touching over and over again a soft spot on my skull
it feels like one of those to-go packets of mayonnaise
can you rhyme a rhythm? do melodies tap their feet?
what's going to become of us? are there any spices left in
the cupboard? what internal organs, what mechanisms
manufacture our unique flavors? searing frizzle fry.
someone asked: why? and there on a back shelf forgotten:
a bag of rice, a bag of flour, a bag of beans and
a jar of olives. you have to be horizontal for a while for
true rejuvenation. an elevator going up and down and up
boxcars hauling boxcars - jars full of jars - a can of cans

.7:10 pm

I can't do it.
I can't wear the uniform.
I can't wear the hat.
I can't wear the little nameplate
that signifies me as one of them.
What I can do -
I can count boxcars going by.
I can give blood to mosquitoes.
I can eat food out of a can with a plastic spoon.
I can write her a haiku because she turns me on.
I can walk forty blocks.
I can carry my world on my back.
What I won't do -
I won't take it personal when they look down their noses.
I won't beg or expect or complain.
I won't feel left out of a game I never wanted to play.

.7:50 pm

Cut in. Halve it. Shred it.
Make confetti out of it. Send it off in a box with a
rock and no return address. Give it a name and
forget it. Donate it anonymously. As she honestly
intended. Befriended dragonfly, praying mantis
saying "can't us get along?" It's wrong not to
even try. Emily and Walt do not deserve that lie.
New to this - nudes kiss. Wet cell. Battery dry. Out of
ink. The pencil is broken. Oatmeal does not taste like
beef and there should be more ashtrays in this place.
That's what I was saying.

.8:30 pm

She is walking towards me. Here she comes. There she is.
Now it gets better. She will smile at me and her eyes
will have lights in them. Hers will be a happy smile. And
then her eyes will go down - they'll jerk back up and they'll
pierce into mine and without her even saying, we'll both
remember all the reasons she wants to hate me. She will touch
my skin and I will hold her, smelling her hair and that will
instantly make me weak. She will have nuts or berries or
a cheeseburger for my health. She will hold my head in
her hands and her eyes will burn and then she'll kiss me with
a passion so intense and undeserved. I will hold her in my
arms, bodies pressed together, every curve of ours fitting
together perfectly. She will have a bottle of water and a
bottle of vodka and a bottle of coffee. She will have a
corkscrew for the missing bottle of wine that I bought for
her and drank last night. Pulled that cork out with a nail I
did - clever application of leverage indeed. Where there's a
drunk, there's a way into a bottle. She will make me hard
and I will want her like a king wants his queen. She will
unwrap her leather notebook and I will hear the way she
dreams. She will whisper beautiful words I can't hear
and she will sing she will hum songs of deep heart and
she will drive me crazy. Yeah.