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My thoughts strayed to her, to him, here, there
As I was touching her.

Revisiting the streets of the big accident
A crowd around a street magician
Glass glittering,
Broken, on the pavement
Cars like accordions
Wrinkled like paper.

Looking through the cracks in the fence
Between the red sun beaten slats
Into the kitchen window
Walking on the dank dry
Stink of the carpet
Walking through the kitchen
Finding a hollow dog carcass by the stove
Body outlined with dust
Spider-made sheets in the toilet bowl.

Remembering the turtle dashing across the
Expanse of the short green grass.
The bullet lodged in the dog’s thigh.
The moist starch smell of boiling pasta.
Crackles of the police dispatcher on AM radio.
Prank calls made at five am
Taken seriously
Dear father, I pray you found your daughter and forgive us our trespasses…

Climbing fences
Walking to your house, then to mine
In the middle of the night.

It was not you
It was her, or maybe not me,
It was all the same in the end
As I was touching her.

I was touching her as the past rewound
And then advanced.
I loved her as her skin
Gave way under the pressure.
I heard her pop and I cried,
“I broke her!”
My new black dolly
My new friend.

Meandering in the meadows
Of the space between she and I
The music danced with my soul
I moved seamless
Like a dream.

We walked to the river
To touch the river
I washed my hands in night’s black water
Let the fresh cool my heart
She floats away
Drifting not drowned.

And I walked
Towards the clock tower
And I found

And we were
Both sad
And we were
Both glad
To walk and talk

We saw her body
In a book
Read her words
By the image
And the creamy black drinks.

Libido guided the man out the door
We followed and laughed.

It was not you
It was her, or maybe not me,
It was all the same in the end.
This is a memory of memories...What I was doing, the memories it triggered and how the night ended.
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primowalker Featured By Owner Dec 1, 2003  Hobbyist Writer
Beautiful words and it flows so smoothly. You paint wonderful images with your words and bring up such powerful emotions. This is everything that poetry should be.
redtrain66 Featured By Owner Dec 4, 2003
gee, thanks.
redtrain66 Featured By Owner Nov 16, 2003
merci. its very train-of-thought. one can never go wrong with lunch-time nookie.
SonOfTheSea Featured By Owner Nov 15, 2003
This was my personal favourite of your currently posted poems. I think I liked it for a few reasons amongst which were its lack of unneccassarily flowery words; it had a few twists in it; it was quite touching.

I liked soup du'jour too - I was feeling kinky at the time - lol

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Submitted on
September 13, 2003
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