naked on the sand

I have checked

too many times

to count and analyze

what x means in relation to o

counting hearts

along the shores of my mind

waiting for theater shows

from my old drama class
to play scenes

from my manuscript.

A few sips of this tangerine dream tea

and presto

a poem is sprung

from my private highway

steering the myriad ways

that lyrics and poetry

headphones and paperback

continue our métro treks

from one part of this city

to another.

Trying new restaurants per capita

like ice cream flavors

kissing at bus stops as teenagers do.

I am not so easy to love, this I know. Thinking about this and that
how my heart has a protective bat
that hits metal hearts that break through.
You left me at the beach
I was working at that bar in Old Montreal
the one my boyfriend ran
putting money in jukeboxes
to hear Come As You Are
in 120th anniversary celebrations.
You could not have found a better place to say hello and good-bye
until six years later
it was the Act 5 Dream
with Mexican directors
shouting “take three”
and as you sat there
watching my artistic train wreck
you envied my hands
my hair
my mind
how I let my guard down
when your eyes rested upon mine
even with your poker face on
I saw through your magnetic eyes.
The director said you had the perfect stance
as you sat there
along the shoreline
contemplating love
life
pain
loss
my heart ached
but it was all an act.
I put another coin
and pressed the same song
drank some Metaxa
shots
and overslept.
Missed my train
and forgot to unravel
the myths once again.
My shift started at five
so I took a shower
and dreamt about the taste of your salty lips.

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