You be my Haiku
And I’ll be your Stanza
Stretched and bent
Water lines made of old straw
Known by a seamstress
Who knit all her handkerchiefs
And stitched them with a heart
Sultan my gospel
Fig tree in my heart song
Your sweet mouth
To my interpunct.
I want to go off and into something else
I’m not here anymore, left blowing into the wind.
Where does my pain come from every night?
Leave me there, it’s in my soothing song.
It’s not lines I’ve drawn across my head
Nor lines that draw my sheet to bed,
It’s circles running down my cheeks
To smother every heartbeat I don’t want to forget.
I’ve lost the difference in my dreams,
They’ve come into my days with open eyes
Reaching out to what I see;
Reflections shaking out in twilight’s lake.
Harmony will be my memory’s drawing
As I lay my bedding down as straw,
Take my hand with what I’ve yet to say
And brush my dusty shoes so that it’s here I’ll stay.
I’m not following these cool habits,
Smooth trends and fine catchy style.
I’m letting those things be
Without any real help coming from me.
You see, what I’m lighting to be
Is the real me.
A me void of all this consumption,
Distraction and greed.
It’s a long line for the starving;
I’m holding a short stick to poke,
And what’s left here of me
Is all here just for you.
If I keep pretending again,
It’ll be the end of this straw I’m sure.
And if I’m not here with truth
Then I’m not here, in truth.
Memories found in the smell of your skin;
I’m the glass biting straw.
I’d be inward as you shone on pretty;
A spin and a twirl just as high as I remember.
Wondering as I do, as I move close to see.
Like your arms always tingle in the end:
I’ve found the way to get through the day,
And light crawls through the room.
Breath upon my neck is a happiness I’ve been warned,
Just a slip away is all I’m left to pray.
For today the brownstone soldiers lapping my wake
Share the dominant raindrops I’ve just escaped.
Refined the madness will walk away
At seasons end to sell your hay
Share the sun, enjoy each day
But don’t get lost along the way
Then if the last straw be drawn
Finding you left standing on the lawn
No goods leftover to be pawned
It will be sorrow; all sun be gone
It’s known it’s fearful inside this head
Laughter spinning around the bed
The makeshift scarecrow: no wit, dead
No roof to shelter, no home to stead
But not all’s lost when wits have fled
A lone wild grouse found and bled
Enough to feed and safely tread
At least for a little while, to ease the dread
We met up for drinks, it had been a long time coming
You with your crippling smile sucking margaritas through a straw
Tattoos in pink running up and down your arms
Crop top and flamboyant sunglasses
I could see it in her eyes, written up and down and in
Staring me right back, inviting me
We flirted unceasingly, enjoying the atmosphere of the joint
Back and forth about life, love, sex, and making a difference
Pushing into regions normally reserved for intimates
But we were intimates, we had already been over that line
Flushing out the spinning daisies with deep breaths and dilated pupils
Desire spoken through eyes
“Want to get out of here?” were my words
We were in a big facility, one with public washrooms
“Meet back here” we both demanded
No arguing; arousal and a full bladder don’t mix
By this time we understood the page we were on
I was out before she was, I started wandering
I looked back and saw her peeking into the men’s washroom
Intentions written all over her tippy toes
From behind I wrapped my arms around her
Walking her into one of the classic stalls
She was already pulling at the waist of her pants
Smooth tight skin of a woman who exercises
Pulling at my pants too with unleashed passion
Normally, I can remember thinking, normally I catch my breath
But this state of elation wasn’t coming down
This hand down my pants wasn’t slowing down
I wanted to ask her how much she weighed after I easily lifted her
Back against the wall, legs wrapped around my hips
I was distracted with my head in her hands
She was biting my lower lip as power cursed through my veins
Hands cupped around her ass, her firm exercised ass
Easy to dig my fingernails into in my moment of pure passion
Euphoria, her’s and mine own
As passionate as our discussions earlier
Life, love, sex, and making a difference
We walked out of that public washroom hand in hand
All the way to her Eastside flat
I asked for her number with intention
Because she didn’t have to ask me to stay
I walked in like I owned the place
And expected breakfast in the morning panties