Two Poems for My Friend

Solace is perhaps the
One true thing you
Cannot yet give me.
Others can see it-- the hunger
Rising when I am with you,
Residing in the veins.
One can only do so much
to still it.


Someday it will be easy for
One to speak of this game and laugh
Currently what we do is
Often laughably
Reminiscent of couples sport-waltzing on
Rice paper:
One misstep and we lose.

Essay Too

We held hands.
She was at work
and I was busy being idle
We windowshopped
for fonts she could wear to
the chatrooms
and like any man
besotted by his date
I said
"They all look good on you."

Written with Salt (2)

On the off-chance that you leave me,
know that I will never take another to my bed.
It does not mean I will not love--
Far, far from it.

She will probably be younger,
all perfume and lace, warm, open
invitations staring up at me
with Go Go Yubari's knowing,
playful predatory gaze.

She will want me, this woman-child.
She will threaten me with with spikes
and chains if I do not satisfy.
(and when I think about it, that's not such a bad idea...)

But I still can't carry her over our threshold
nor ravish her on our bed.
That space next to me will always be yours
Until I break the threshold and burn the bed.
And playful Go Go will have to wait
until the off-chance that I do.

Written with Salt

My dream, she flew to Italy
on white-silver wings,
leaving behind
our floating pillows,
our hushed morning telephone calls
and the baby fat beneath
the round softness of her face
and shoulders I had wanted
so much
to kiss.

She sends all her dreamers
photographs and there are days
when I wonder if she looks at mine
with her eyes a-twinkle, wondering
how I've been

I'm older, dearest, if you cared to know.
I sometimes miss you and I'm slightly envious--
I had once hoped to take you to Italy
and marry you there.