Heart Side

I sleep on his heart side. Even when I’m in bed alone, I don’t cross over the invisible boundary into that space where he would be, where he will be, hours from now. I count them down, even while I sleep, as my own heart stops and starts again in irregular, unpredictable intervals. In my dreams I’m waiting for him, looking for him, pacing the floors, the streets, the skies. At last his face floats into view and I relax as he comes toward me. I smile and turn my face up to his. Mi corozon, I whisper. He kisses me in reply and I surface like an erstwhile, reluctant swimmer from a cold and murky depth into the warm, aerated embrace of life. I breathe in deeply and exhale his name. For a moment my eyes flutter open, just long enough to take in the sight of him, then close again as I drift back to sleep, this time to dream that he’s here beside me, memories and shadows and ghosts unseated by live, scented, sense-evoking flesh, enfolding me, freeing and cherishing me, all traces of boundary released and soon, so soon, forgotten.

Dogs with Mohawks

My love and I
With nothing better to do
One rainy winter day
Took a look at my shaggy canine
And decided he needed a trim

We started slow
With a pair of shears
Behind the ears
Under the chin

And as we trimmed
We talked as always
About whatever came to mind

And the conversation turned
To the subject of what we’d imagined,
In the glory of dewy youth,
Our lives would look like today

I thought I’d be married, I said
As I swiped at Mugsy’s tail
Be grateful you didn’t go there
He grimaced
Believe me, it’s misery ad infinitum
Compounded by devastation

I should be teaching poetry,
He mused
At some prestigious, west coast college
Off came the left side of Mugsy’s beard

With co-eds hanging on my every word
Gone was his moustache too

I expected to be a famous writer
I exclaimed with an air of whimsy
As the clippers zoomed over Mugsy’s back
And flew up under his stomach
With at least one bestseller, I added
He nodded, I know, huh? he said
Then shaking his head in a daze of wonder
Started in with the scissors in earnest

I’d have a mansion by the sea
He explained with a faraway look
With servants to do my bidding
And an agent, an editor,
Stupendous advances

Fur was flying in all directions
Frenetic buzzing filled the air

And so it went for quite some time
With every word, another cut
For every lost dream
Another lock shorn
Until at last we were out of shouldve’s
And before us quaking in forlorn regret
Stood the product of our mutual despair

There was nothing left of him to speak of
He was half the size he’d started
And the only hair remaining
Was a strip from head to toe
A Mohawk of black and white
From his forehead straight up and spiking
Down his back to the tip of his tail

We put down the scissors, dropped the shears
And swept up the pile of fur
Thinking perhaps we’d made a mistake
Gotten too carried away
Until Mugsy stood up and shook himself
Then pranced up and down the room

Showing off his brand new do

Unencumbered, with nothing to block his view
Of cats and cars, food and chew-toys
And laps to settle into

I think he likes it, I gasped in amazement
He seems to feel freer, he agreed
Go figure, we said in unison
Then sighed and settled back down
To the one thing we both can’t not do for long

The process of writing our hearts out
To the tune of the pouring rain

I dig my new Do!

Resurrection

One distraction follows
Another
In pursuit of
Purpose to daily

Life

When there’s rarely a place
You have to be
Nor legal tender
To be had

Yet who knows
What stumble might lead
To what
What you might find
In the face of
Life
Re-defined
By the unexpected

The way you can
Move through
Wrongs grown wider
While Reason escapes and
Reasons escape

As a heart
Wakes up one day
To something new
And old at once
And wants it anyway
To realize that
What you dreamed
Is dreaming now
Beside you

And the how or why
No longer matters

Hope is resurrected

One Winter’s Night

One of these nights
When words are
Too heavy
When the darkness is
Too cold

Lay me down
Beside you
Flesh against flesh
Warm and tender
Under llamas wool

Let our dreams
Come and go
Like fingertips

Grazing temples
And souls

In the midst of breath
Between us

Loose
Unbound
And
Gentle

For the duration of
One winter’s night

One blue moon
One light in the shadows

From spellbound dusk
Till breaking dawn

Find reprieve
With me
In the silence

Of night

In the act
Of silent

Communion

Haiku #27: Visions

To be free of needs
To pursue only passion
What Life might be like…

Dreamboat

Wet blue parking lot
Packed tight with boats
From dinghy to yacht
Moored to weathered grey docking

Lined by flashy gift shops
With touristy fare
Coffee houses
And seafood restaurants

Attracting small and moseying crowds

In the hot sun I ambled
Along the walkway
Gazing out at the maritime scene

While I toyed with the thought
Not the first time
Of living on a boat

Moored to a slip
Or out at sea
Or a combination of both

I scanned the harbor
Gazing down the line
Looking for the one

Just one

That would fit

Not a speed boat
Or a fishing boat
But a sail boat

The right size
shape and character

I found her at last
A gal named Sarita
40 feet of not quite gleaming
Not brand new
Wooden decks

With sea foam green sail
And whitewashed hull

Pretty

Without being showy
Sturdy and capable
Without all the muscle

I stood there for I don’t know
How long
Just watching her

Imagined myself on board

Pictured myself living
Within her simple, clean lines

Big enough for one
To live expansively
And two to live
In comfort

I left the harbor
Went back home
But still I think of Sarita

With her simple, clean lines

When I close my eyes
And dream

In comfort
Sailing Sarita

Through a Window

I am up before dawn
Walking

In the purplish grey fog
That cloaks the valley.

As daylight yawns and
Creeps round the corner

An icicle of sunlight,
Ever brazen

Pierces the shroud

And forms a tunnel into
The swirling mist
Toward a small house

Through a window

Where I see a pair of lovers
Lost in a tender embrace.

With calloused hands
He traces her lips
Gently she catches his finger

With the edge of resurgent hunger
Bait to a sated fish

Then buries her face in
The nape of his neck
Shy, playful, flirtatious…

For a long, long moment
They cling to each other
Rocking gently to and fro

To a beat only they can hear

They separate,
but just enough

For him to cup her face

Then he presses his lips
Against her mouth
While her arms wrap
round his neck.

I can see her tremble
I can hear him moan
I can feel a velvet heat in the air

As I close my eyes
For just an instant

And then they’re gone

In Her Dreams

 

In her dreams she drives across

the desert in a fast car

at night

 

With the top down, no seatbelt, and no fear.

 

In her dreams the sky is dressed

in deepest black velvet

studded with glittering diamonds

and a sash of pale, creamy satin.

 

The road beneath her tires

stretches on and on,

empty and endless

 

Her destination: exhilaration and speed itself.

 

In her dreams she meets a man,

an old flame who used to

put her down

 

Who reduced her psychological stature

in slow but steady increments

 

He says, ‘I want you back.’

 

She says, ‘In your dreams’

then her foot hits the accelerator

as she races away.