When I Was There A Little Rose Monologue

there is a little rose, silent and bone white living just beyond my reach just alive enough to catch my eye like you used to do when we would go for weeks without eating anything but each other when light itself would follow you around aroused by your scent as eager to join with you as i

now i am thinking of the night you beat me at scrabble with the word cancer and how it was nothing that became something that killed you and how it seems the little rose is reaching out to me the green leaching out of its leaf tips and how the life is leaching out of me as i go weeks now without eating anything like you used to do just before you went silent and bone white

elixir

drought winter has not brought it, but sustains it.
months
this desert, this life parched yet bleeding rivulets of everything i thought i was my single paged testament with little on it

whenever i see you now, this thirst quenches. but you are not liquid you are emotion the raw deep sustenance i need have always needed.

you are the elixir the sweet smell of rain

french kiss

just where the tall pines stand, pointing everywhere there lies a slight berm, and then a little pond. in autumn it is amorous with loosestrife and goldenrod, with Queen Anne’s lace growing higher here, more fertile.

and where, if you were asked a question you could answer it, if given a choice, you could make it.

i do not believe in chance. i believe whenever you smile at me you are breathing out all the warmth i need and all the sensuousness, like this place, supple in your mouth. and where, in the cool drizzle of June at the dusk of day, you kiss me

just the thought of it breaks my will.

misery in the nameless city

i am standing there, at the corner of Common and who knows what out of place out of time out of any kind of comfort zone drifting as if buoyant on a sea of desperation as the people, by the dozens, the