I learned today
that what I say
people have said
is really all in my head!
Tapes in a loop!
That’s the straight scoop!
Tapes I just play
day after day
(probably because
I like feeling this way!)
Insecure, silly, stupid, depressed.
Yup, I like it!
and so I guess
no one ever says what I think they say;
So I’ll just let my loopy tapes play.
Oh! That I could have danced with U!/
Wango-Tangoed the whole nite through!/
Instead I’ll do what I said I’d do!/
You’ll have the day’s 1st email when Im through!
You remember the anticipation
of the annual celebration!
Was it a while ago today
Ya think?!?
that deception
happened;
drove you to the brink.
You hate
V.D.
You wait
2C
what good will come
out of anticipa …
…
…
tion.
But nothing ever does.
She or he goes north,
of course,
without you,
because
“Gotta get away”
(that’s what they say!)
To do
to …
you know.
What lovers do.
Bored. Walk.
Stare.
Talk.
Fog night air.
Gawk
at / in VS underwear.
Do that thang
they should do.
She’ll blissfully sing
without you.
With husband,
wife, lover,
ex-boy/girl friend.
Off northside, south end,
east or west coast
they go,
leaving you empty hand-
ed … almost.
Yeah, V.D. sucks.
Like a disease;
you know they will …
play and toil.
Just not with thee.
————————
Followup, Feb. 17, 2009, 9 p.m. – a ConTEXTing Poem
Valentine weekend-ed/
just as I suspected./
She didn’t e-mail, text or write./
No call to say goodnight./
Do I feel rejected?/
Or just replaced?/
In any case/
I wait!
(additional addendum):
Later on
came the call:
“I’m glad we can still be friends!”
That’s all.
Crowds of boys playing Wii!/
Everyone yelling at me!/
Now is when/
I wish again/
I could be playing with thee!
Funny,
How in the Valley of the Sun,
where my son
lives, works, plays;
where my mother and sisters
spend their days
with the cacti,
and dust, growing dry;
While on the other hand I,
alive,
live farther Northwest by choice,
in Puget Sound, where it’s moist;
but yet barely survive,
for I, too, am dry.
I cry
because of the dusty,
empty, barren part
of my heart.
It beats and lives here,
searching, waiting, wanting.
While in that hot Valley,
a new, unknown she
lives who writes
of dreamy delights
of what I only imagine
could/would/should be.
Should I turn my mind
and gaze
southward,
through the empty haze,
and wonder?
If I traveled there,
and met what I dared
hope for,
would my parched heart moisten,
grow, then burst asunder
with fulfilled glee
from me + she
in that parched, sunny,
yet fertile Valley?
Funny.
Writing pleasures but no dough!/
Consulting would be nice but no go!/
Blonde writer would b sweet but oh oh!/
We were 2 go out but she no-showed!/
I didn’t know!
I’ve quoted u thrice today/
when there was no more to say./
Instead of being witty, off the cuff, /
I simply said: “Words are enough.”
All I wanted for Christmas was someone blonde, in a slinky black dress.
A Christmas gift for a request for someone blonde, dressed in something chic and black
