this used to be a weekend
of Jerry Lewis and
the telethon
first New York then
Las Vegas
then not at all
the vacancy I feel
now acutely
now after a long hot
dry summer
though it is not the
heat I hate
the mirage I see is not of an oasis
rather a memory of
feeling
a touch or kiss and
more
as distant, an
illusion
as any man dying of
thirst might see
Greener pastures,
bubbling brooks
swaying palm trees
and coconuts
a paint by numbers vision
I fill in with thoughts of you
that odd lingering landscape
that is somewhere beyond lust
but has not yet
reached
the word love
a passion to find the passion
among the dry Stones
I mistaken for water
a man can die of
thirst for wishing
and yet it lost in
the fog
that only he can
create
this day when summer
ends
and fall looms ahead
leaves still green yet
tinged around the
edges
for want of rain
like me and how I feel
No comments:
Post a Comment