To G

At Midnight
It was when magical things occured

For I found you
and children of a certain kind
smiled their innocence

In November
you pushed me hard
so hard that I fell on my back
and lay there for a while
Hurting while you stood there

I saw your anguish
your poisoned pain

In December
My books lay at my feet and wept
and I along with them

I left your memory far behind then
As I sat at midnight mass
The Church of the Afghans

That Christmas eve
with the stains on the church windows
looking like a kaleidoscope of broken colors

I prayed for you.

I prayed you'de be happy doing the Rumba
if that's what you wanted to do.

In February
I walked over a thousand cottony clouds
barefoot and soul-bared
I walked and skipped and hopped

I wasn't free
not until I came to it
The Bridge of a Thousand Twinkling Lights

In February.
That Bridge called out to me
Walk over, walk over

I could not leave you behind
I could not leave such a beautiful man behind

I looked over the Bridge of a Thousand Twinkling Lights

I could not find you there.

And the lights twinkled and danced
and all your love letters danced down from the skies

and when they hit the ground
they'd roll up with satin ribbons
and go jump jmup into my bag of memories
my yellow bag of memories.

Along with those love letters
those billets-doux
Pieces of my heart came flying

They fused together
into this big, throbbing cushion

Every beat carried your name.

My love had returned to me
Simply.
But
without you.

Dedicated to Ganesh

I wait.
An expanse of sand
Infinity.
Sand points burning my expectancy
Sweat droplets embrace a screen
Time stands
I alone.
I watch a flicker of life
It strengthens
It becomes a flame
And it burns.

ASL Please?
You wish honey
I reply.
And then
A difference hangs heavy
calling out to a savage soul
Slakes its thirst
With the words
Midnight's Children.

My men

My men have always passed me by
They look at my girlfriends
and tell me to lose some weight

My men look grave and serious when
I tell them I love them

They think I think too much

My men have all had weaknesses
Too bad fat slobs like me ain't one of 'em

My Men.
My Many Reasons.

To Mydhili (DG): Part 1

Freud's daughter lives on
she lives among laughter
and girlish fantasies
She whirls in a world of adult confidences

She hurts when she has
she hates very rarely

she is a fierce woman
but oh that restrained passion

like a rubberband
in danger of being frozen

Freud's daughter

she gives strength without conditions
or love
or friendship
or giggles

her giggles, her laughter
they are all free

Oh Freud would have been pleased
Indeed.