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Letter #32

July 22, 2012

Life is funny.

One day it says take more initiative

the next   it yells  slow down.

Regardless

I knocked at the door-

either the place was haunted,

or I  was just unwanted-

But you must let  must let must let

a hundred  princesses kiss your amphibian lips

before you meet you meet you meet

the one worthy of

transforming for.

Since

it  is internal

love does not love an open book

or spare a flirting  glance at hearts dangling on sleeves

like obscene sausages

it requires

a wall riddled with holes and mysteries

so that love may bloom like flowers in a hothouse

or  buried  prayers.

And  you are appalled  I am made of flesh and blood

after all ?

the same mouth that forms moons and mountains

curse and bite like an animal

cracks plates  and leave crumbs on the table-

well

revolutions   begin  at home.

So no,

I won’t compliment your  body

I will instead elaborate on  your unparalleled

taste in  music  or books.  Or your insights  on the

economic recovery or the Arab Spring

while my mind

orbits drunkenly  around the gravitational

pull of your  hips.

Or perhaps

not compliment at all.

But for Chrissakes

go ahead,  take me to court.

I  will confess under oath that  you are 

beautiful-

that when you  come into this space  it becomes 

a  room reserved  from  rain

that the pale  slant of your neck makes my eyes scream silently

and your  fingers tapping out the ash

taps out all the things I want to say but do not say

for lack of a better word, 

for lack of a better thought

for lack of something original,  

or politically correct-

How dare you think my   “beautiful”

is merely cutaneous,  that

it’s somehow tied to the cleft

of   your

cleavage?

 

 

 

 

(some recent drawings)

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2 Comments leave one →
  1. July 25, 2012 7:24 pm

    I love this!

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