Saturday, February 17, 2007
partly rendered images
he stares into the distorted reflection
as if it were an awake dream,
it is midday yet he wonders where
she will be when the sun sets across
the midwestern horizon;
time zone and geography denied.
why should he care,
why do thoughts even graze
the mind's vision of her visage?
never having had a single touch,
they live vicariously in each
full of partly rendered images
and half said sentiments,
filling gaps with the desire of hope
and desperation of loneliness.
genies aren't found in closets
so the instinct to lustfully wander
is as strong as waxwings looking for cedars;
albatrosses fleeing familiar shores.
miracles aren't found in god boxes or
behind altars so the desire to mutter
dangerous desires is like a
murder of crows looking for roadkill;
constrictors embracing its meal.
with sunset in the rear view mirror,
she drives east into the violet dusk
her mind on the reflection of
a heart's imagination becoming
clear somewhere in the between.