Thursday, January 17, 2013

Illicit Romanic Encounter


Meet me outside clandestinely
Kiss me passionately
No one else has to know
I promise not to tell
Agree to meet at Starbucks on
Second Avenue at 80th Street
where hopefully, no one knows us.
I reckon you’ll be late but you
beckon me from the corner
On rare occasions when we meet and you think
no one else sees, you pull me to you fiercely
Playfully and forcefully, always by surprise
Press your lips down hard push
your tongue between my lips
enter without consent
Your hand holds my neck firmly,
your other hand applies pressure to my face
Suddenly, like an unexpected summer storm
Flashes of lightning and downpour on a sunny day,
quickly disappears, the sun
brighter than before the storm
you’re gone in less than ten seconds
Maybe when we’re 80 we can finally get together
again you’ll whisper sweet nothings, stare in my eyes
but then you won’t turn and leave me
We’ll have a few years together before I die
I can always dream
Maybe I'll be a size four when I'm eighty
Then you'll want me forever
You like little slim girls
Not a big girl like me size eleven or twelve
I want to be smaller but that’s not what it is
You just like her more than me she’s trimmer has more muscle
She is artistic just like me
Besides you love her, not me
So why do you insist every time we meet
When I least expect it you act like you’re only being friendly
Suddenly you grab me and my dreams are reawakened
in an unbridled sunrise explosion
Maybe when I’m eighty you'll finally be all alone
Maybe then it will be different

Monday, January 07, 2013

Spill the Beans, A Drug Dealer Poem


Scat it verbally
Rift through a blind alley
I stumble through a valley of words
I am not forsaken
I do not deny the allegations swimming in my head
My tone-deaf ears betray my frustration as I try to work through them
Deny the valley of death, I stumble ahead
A new gestation of wandering words joins the tribe
wondering where to go before I die
I digest the contents
Of a symphony, words define my lust
betrays and defines my trust
Ignore the shallow depths, I forge ahead.
Follow a new design
Wallow in just and fine deserts,
dust my mind free of desert sand
Trust in salvation
Like a fruit fly,
I follow light breathlessly without focus
jealousy becomes wounds inside out
from way back in the day,
Lucky to have survived till today.
So many chances and choices - should’ve beens and could’ve beens
never evolving to more than a memory of a dream
Live to survive
Reminisce on what could’ve been; still not dead
An angel stands between me and death
Consumed by an urge for vanilla fudge ice cream
Trapped in the midst of a drug heist
I live to tell how the story went down that night
My son asleep in his bed by the window
they climbed down the fire escape from the roof to enter his room
Stoned cold criminals, killers seeking drugs we survive to tell the allegory.
Our son slept beneath an open window the moon gazing in
My husband went to the window, screamed
Grabbed our son from our one bedroom flat where he rested on his mat
on the floor and handed our son to the retired old couple from Spain next door
took our son from Felix’s arms.
Later they watched Felix through their peephole.
He held a wooden kitchen chair by its leg and went in the hallway, swinging it.
Cowardly and afraid, the criminals ran away.
My husband took my baby son to my sister’s that night
Caught between enemies on all sides, the law and so-called friends are enemies
No one on my side, and me a mother, woes multiply
The world reversed her orbit tonight I swore it was over
One way or another I had to start another life - survive
Wounds of a life lived so hard there’s no escape
I take root in another fight to be won delight in moonlight
A miracle to survive a story to be told
Yes, I had someone to be and someplace to go go go go go