The Curve of Your Mouth
i woke just now
dreaming
the curve of your mouth
staring up at the ceiling
i imagine how
we would hold hands
and hang
off the couch
laughing
at how strangely cool
everything looks
upside down
i imagine being
close to you and
how your mouth
draws me in.
but like so many seasons,
those uncensorable
and randy days
have too quickly
come and gone
that dusty fan
in the window
blows
a fervent fluttering
of pigeon’s wings
up from the damp
gangway
it grazes my
sweat soaked hair
while you –
unknowing –
tap dance
your way
‘round your own
private everest
and in more ways
than one,
you
cannot
be
reached.
still,
sometimes
ther are those
stirrings…
that’s right —
over there –
beneath the ashes
and you know
we coulda rode
that phoenix
right out of arizona
and the real truth?
you weren’t
the one
i truly loved…
but you were
the one
i wanted.