(1) Radio Romance
(for Susana)Tappy love songs on the radio
Trip their tacky way across the air.
I wonder if my friend in love
Is wearing their silly tunes in her hair.
The crooning waves scatter , and
Tickle the edges of my heart,
As I think of her and him surfing in a
Sing-a-long Heart FM cart.
Love, we are told, washes life to a shining simplicity--
If you love me & I love you, we'll live in heaven for all eternity.
So while lovers sigh at GMV, I’ll play at being Ms. Busybody,
And peek in at the roses and wine, and diamonds forever thine.
"I swear, I want, I wish..."
Whine along with macho rap-drones and pop kitsch.
Moans of desire for love's tasty dish,
Crackle with the smack of a smoochy kiss.
As I grind the grist between my toes,
On my own washed-up beach--
The final sand-bag of woes,
Stranded, against this off-sky sea.
But maybe, just maybe, she's singing her own song of love,
Maybe it's as sure as the stains on her dinner glove.
Maybe the clink of their lives wasn't sought,
Maybe the sails of their hearts are sailing out of port.
Socking the lil'o piano inside the radio,
As the wellhard rocker crows and bellows out wet sorrow,
I steer the dial on over to more jazzy improvisations,
Biting back howls of catty accusations,
Casting off, too, for more bitchy destinations.
(2) Lover's Exit
Fifteen minutes to one o' clock.
You are muffled and dumb like distant thunder.
My heart, alone, ticks.
Ten minutes to one o' clock.
Your Homeric eyes are dreams of displeasure.
Dark seas, ashamed, mist.
Five minutes to one o' clock.
You are turning a Medusa of stony censure.
My gaze, sorry, blinks.
One second to one o' clock.
You are dropping like a coffin
Into an extended argument,
Gone forever, mine for never,
Gesticulating where I can never go.
No seconds to one o' clock.
You enter, I exit.
The spring's been wound up.
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