“the difference between Art and Life is that Art is more bearable” – Charles Bukowski

 

I want to keep all the seconds

minutes, hours to myself.

I want to revel

in the magic

of two glistening bodies.

I made a list of things

and created poetry

from chandeliers

and hotel lobbies.

Pinot noir and club sandwiches

with no tomatoes

who would believe

the poem?

My notes of you?

skin and sin, you said,

two peas in an ipod, I said.

I’m not afraid to eat

or to love your body.

I can caress too

I can feel your insides out

and your pain.

I could be a Real person

no frills

orchids on my skin.

Set alarm to sundown

and kiss some of your freckles

hello and goodbye.

Mohawk on your head

cause you’re the warrior

I’m too busy taking pictures

of chandeliers

being cozy in your arms

in my jeans.

I wonder if all the having

covered all the wanting.

I wonder what you were thinking

when I said

what was on my mind.

I am who I am.

I say the worst and the best

all in the same line.

You probably liked me still

do with me what you will

make my body sore

I will never complain.

Turn me anyway you desire

I like what clearly

makes you

want me like a teenager.

But I know how to lose people

by not knowing how to hold

on to them.

I’m always saying the wrong things

or staring at your lips

I’m banging my head

my heart

my body

my soul

my mind

up against your squeezed up chest

I can’t breathe

but I like it

being under you.

Sometimes you follow your heart

destroy your logic

in the walk

to the elevator.

I water my soul

with your kisses.

I’m fine.

Don’t know how to behave.

So excuse me

for this poem

that I’ve been meaning

to not write.

I always feel it’s

never good enough

for you.