Light out of giant windows, dancing
With who-knows-what feeling in the driveway.
All defenses down. Stars going down
In fear of too much of a perfect moment.
Clouds coalesce with our cool breath.
Moment, in lights-out stillness, soon lost,
Lost in clouds, in new paralyzing questions.
Handstands of voiceless frustration.
Sentences chipped away by plush,
Shy boy fantasies. Piss in the underbrush.
Two inches was never quite enough,
Not for the impaired, not for this queer
Who stutters to the honest moon.
Conversations under a chapel-ceiling
Clinking like dishes,
Swinging like an empty hour of boyhood.
We are heady, heavy and rambling fools.
The next morning we find out everything went wrong.
Lingered and then left, having cleaned
Out the grime of our hushed mistakes.
Walking out the door I imagined some more.
Still, I can’t waver those questions—
Are we having fun, what could I have done:
Why am I so surprised.
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