06 November 2014


Is it preferable to be decorous
And bow gracefully
To the poet who holds all the cards?
The one I love
And pine for?
He recognized instantly I was
Still am, always will be

Was what?
Deep in love?
Deep in the arts?
Deep in the throat?

Or is it preferable to get angry?
Disappear again?
Which does he deserve?

He said to guard against
Sounding obtrusive.
A man of few words, but he managed
To say “obtrusive” to me
And I was hurt, but I apologized 
To the poet who holds all the cards

He keeps himself in check.
He won’t let a single card slip by,
Although he shows them all to me 
Just so I know what I am missing.
“Look, this is the king of hearts,”  he says
“What a specimen!”
“Look, here’s the queen of hearts, a sad lady,
How come such sadness?”  he asks.
He knows how come, he’s a pretender

Each card signifies a loss.
Each one reminds me of my job:
Entertain him, caress his vanity
Well, why stop at a caress?
How about a good old b and j?
His vanity deserves it.
After all he practices his hobby
With superlative artistry,
He is the poet of seduction

Forgive me, I sound obtrusive, I know.
Hard to avoid obtrusiveness, hard to be graceful

Plus, he meditates, 
A pilgrim of mountaintops, 
Which makes him even more desirable.
I crave the gamut.
I mean, what good is swimming
If you won’t dive? 
I address him:
Will you draw me into the raw,
Uncloaked intimacy of your orbit?

I am such a lousy card player!