Feeling crept into awareness, subtle flavor I nearly missed lingers on my tongue. Alone I stand starring at the mirror, my face starring back at me. Flushed red frowning, puffy anger clinging to cheeks like rusted barnacles, all this I feel from the emptiness surrounding me, when your not here.

My imagination is pulling away from reality so quickly. I am sure my mind is beginning to resemblance a dirty clothes hamper, tangled and rotting from within.

I miss your touch upon my mind, your whisper in my ears. Only you can deliver a wretch like me, only your scent can awaken me bringing me to my senses. Only you hold the magic, you bare the fruit of life that I seek so deeply within my shattered shell. Only you…. only you. Only your touch can coax the blood back into my lifeless corpse, only you, no one else.

The razor’s dull blade chafed skin beneath snow white Barbasol mimicking the unevenness that marked my failed life. Each nick reminding me of dreams long ago blushing pregnant, with promise. Now I wished to join those vanquished hopes following them down the drain of my corroded mind. Routine has become a prison and I have become both inmate and executioner.

I ache to run, arms flaying at missed opportunities chasing their ghosts into outer space, forgetting I ever had dreams of big things, I want to forget touching your skin with ten fingers both rough and soft, pinching your flesh and kissing each inch of you, you telling me “I love your breath on my body, your tongue licking me, I love you.”

I want to forget memories bubbling beneath snow white Babasol as I scrape layers of time from my face, with this dull rusted razor.

I exist this moment upon unforgiving sidewalks neatly stepping along rolled out concrete ribbons, my feelings confined by bounding brick limestone apartments soaring high in the blue sky. My eyes focus straight ahead desperately reigning in a wandering imagination before traveling down naked alleys, proposing marriage to empty gutters, asking to not be swallowed. Lost in a city far from anything I know, sidewalk’s rising up, slapping me with concrete loneliness sucking life from me with radiating hot damp heavy air. Motherless children gathered on stoops spit as I pass yelling edgy breast puffing obscenities, pitiful birch pretending to mellow agitated passengers crawling from underground, crowds encased in transparent shells held together with yellowing anxiety, blocks of cavern facades shrink self esteem exposing open sores, red canopies shade peers who remark to themselves over gin, how foreign I look. I walk pissing tears conjugating bits of memory pressing toward something I don’t know, sidewalk walking with nothing to do. Haunting beautiful girls and boys turn away too busy building neurotic walls, vendors close doors pretending to nap. There are no white clapboards with green shutters pointing the way home, no hula hoops nor backyard picnics inviting me to leave my troubles in the wind. I’m walking hands folded praying dark joins cool night air letting me sleep to dream of lost touches and gentle kisses, of red noses that made me smile so long ago.

My father taught me it’s acceptable when outside to pee in any corner I find convenient, the only caveat, make sure no one is watching. Barely twelve when I received this liberating lesson, I often forgot the part about who might be watching, and one day the neighborhood crone and her sister caught me in the act. The two sisters summarily dragged me by the ear to stand  zipper open in front of my father. Dad stood looking at me with a barely disguised smile on his face and apologized, saying “I can’t imagine where he learned to do that.” Satisfied at my humiliation the crone released her grip on my aching ear and turned, walking away arm and arm with her sister.

Bus stop in the rain

you walked away

splashed by a car

won’t call again

shoes wet

don’t understand

missed bus

love lost

umbrella bounces

downtown alone

heartache heartache

a cool number in my head

snap snap snap

Ellen inhaled the stainless aesthetic, then slowly exhaling, savored the anticipation washing over her.

The vendor folded back the stainless doors releasing the sacred aroma into a cloud of rising steam, and smiled. Taking the cue Ellen stepped forward to place her order, “two please,” she said smiling back at the vendor.

Silver tongs plunged deep within the stainless, returning a rich plump hot dog steamed to succulent perfection. The vendor expertly nestled the dog into a warm spongy bun, and repeated, to complete Ellen’s order.

Reaching out Ellen graciously received the hot dogs remarking “how juicy and plump,” and with no one noticing she genuflected a wee bit, thanking the universe for the moment.

Instinctively she grasped the solitary yellow squeeze bottle brightly contrasting itself against the cool stainless of the cart, and wondered, maybe she’d eat the hot dogs naked, but she squirted a long yellow line across both dogs before she could decide.

With one bite Ellen revisited all her summer memories, reliving a brief happiness she had as a little girl, when time stood still.

Startled minds ramp into flaring comatose consciousness, jump starting sight, adjusting hearing, grabbing the one next to you, shaking her, wake up wake up something’s happening here.

There was a knock at the door, a knock at the door, there was a knock at the door.

Emotions spinning me into torrid thoughts, whirlpooling down a rusted drain into a river of out of control, running toward the back door ready to explode with fists and teeth, repulsing intrusive fears.

Yelling, belching, moving around screaming hitting extending rage with fleshy force.

On soft cotton sheets, fresh with spring air, Franny dropped her robe, edging herself onto the bed.
With her finger tips she placed warm bacon upon her inner thighs, letting juices dribble to the sheets, letting the grease adherer each slice to her skin. Using her salty fingers Franny massaged the bacon with ice cubes, turning it translucent white, like her skin. Laying back upon the crisp sheets, Franny enjoyed the mingling of odors, the touch of meat. Beckoning me, she softly commanded, “Be my Trojan Horse, make me sizzle, devour me.” I emerged breathless, from the dark corner.

Carole King wafting across the quad

sun shinning on our bodies, reaching up

I touch sky blue cotton dress with

spaghetti straps, compelling anorexic

dancers creating permanent jealousy

binge infused with cheerleaders,

wondering could they possibly, like you.

Grass between toes, classes for the toads

reefer madness swirling puffing circle

hula hoops around your waist, waste

around my brain, wine draining into dirt,

Candies stained burgundy fly through the

air, I lick grapes alcohol jam drying upon

bare ankles calves looking at you, looking

up your pale blue cotton spaghetti strapped

dress, wondering If you belong to me…

Tull crests a wave, your lungs suck my air

I don’t care, your on top for all to see, blond

hair obscuring my face, tongues exchanging

spit hips craving hips. Students teachers rush

away, friends form circle mandala shielding us.

Permission to explode quad style public display,

hundreds gather keeping authorities away, you

And I melt into bliss, getting away for just this day.

I asked the monk why he always carried a tear in the corner of his eye, he replied “It binds me to compassion.” But I asked “why a tear?” He smiled and instead asked me a question, “why do you carry a gaping whole in your heart?” I was stunned and speechless but gathered myself answering “It reminds me to be vulnerable.” “Ah” said the monk, “the difference between my tear and your wound is?” We sat in a meadow back to back meditating till the sun went down.

I fall upon the rivers edge,
snow cold cocoon enveloping me
frozen fingers writing in snow,
can’t erase the pain I feel,
can’t erase this mistake
in my life of mistakes,

ancient frozen upon the river,
no bridge to the other side,
no bridge to cross to you.
I see you standing there, your
heart black and blue. Blue
to red then to black turning
back to red as you turn away.

Rolling darkness wraps her arms
around my cold shivering body,
wondering aloud she asks
“where have you been?” Foolishly
I tell her of you, of happy, she
laughs at me for being happy,
even for just a moment.

You gave me wholeness those cold days
when I was alone.
like a child I wanted more, sticky fingers
grabbing before you were ready.
stamping my shoes on the floor
scuffing both, onto an irrevocable path.

Zen melting into dirty attachments,
a petulant boy guised as a man,
nothing between the lines to read,
it’s all there, non-Koan.

How deep can I go I ask her
through desert eyes,
“how long is your life” she asks,
then turns away.
A child acting with self-indulgence
selfishness foolishness,
now a man laying awash in tears,
remorse, futility.
the man seeing clearly awakes,
chilled to the bone upon
the river bank.

I’ll always be alone now that your gone.
My love was real, alas the petulant boy
guised as a man, was more real.

Beating heart wandering
aimless through thoughts
wondering why, thousands
of times I’ll second guess
myself.

Sitting starring blue wall,
feelings crashing into one
another, pain ripping skin
from my anxious body.

Stomach empty, knotted with
illusions might have been.
Abandoned by my own self
seeing a better gig else where.

Last brass ring gone for good,
once more alone, frightened.
Once more facing death’s
grinning presence, solitary.

Depression rolls over me with
might claws ripping feelings,
moorings snapped, adrift in a
leaky boat, crying, all is lost.

Carlos carefully flicked the squeegee, removing the last drop of dirty water from the stores front window, he smiled and turned to breathe in the fresh morning air filling his lungs with the cities pulse, he crossed himself and opened his store.

“Wash the windows everyday Carlos” his father had told him, “do this and people walking by will look in, it’s the magic of the glass, even if business is slow you must wash the front windows everyday.”

Customers walking by the little coffee shop would notice the shinny inviting windows framed with thick red wood carefully etched in filigree, they’d notice straw lining the display bed behind the transparent glass with coffee beans from the far away lands beckoning their senses.

Inside Carlos would smile, sometimes waving at those stopping to look at his wife Maria’s glorious display she created new everyday, snuggling wonders artfully behind the freshly washed glass framed with thick red wood carefully etched in filigree, contrasting stenciled words on glass Café World Coffee.

People did stop in to buy coffees stopped by to chat with Carlos and Maria even after other coffee shops sprouted in the neighborhood, Café World’s loyal customers shunned the chrome competitors decors, buying the fresh roasted delights from Café World, from Carlos.

His father’s words echoed in Carlos memory, the magic of the glass guided his steady hand on the squeegee, the people walked by everyday delighting in their own memories from behind the freshly washed glass framed with thick red wood carefully etched in filigree.

Through our window suns rays careen off the dust particles amplifying dreams till your breathing softly jolts me into some kaleidoscope awakening. My legs entwined with yours, our mouths sharing spit dripping to me from you and back again. Deeply I inhale your precious smells a mixing of perfume, sweat and sleep into one life giving scent imprinting itself forever deep inside my memories

Fingers awakening touching legs drawing pictures on still sleeping skin, eyes squinting bodies stretching coming together in morning’s first touch, sweet warmth of the moment no worlds exist just you being me being you.

Then First words flow like Elmer’s glue pouring forth reluctantly creating throaty mumbles, actively resisting with sticky pauses between out words , not wanting the day to start not wanting  to break the spell we have cast stopping time, over our bodies and minds.

Pulling covers over our heads shutting out the suns rays shutting out everything intruding on our tiny slice of time, on our tiny island our tiny castle built for two, where nothing exists except you being me being you.