“Beginnings are brutal, like this accident of stars colliding, mute explotions of colorful gasses…”
His left eye, blue as sky,
A nervous wring of cigarette-stained fingers
And always speaking to me
Clear as silence,
Opening my mind like
A lotus flower, full bloom,
And a raw innocence I’ve since
Been unable to tap into.
In those early days
Of shedding skin, I peeled
From within myself
Like an open blister,
And was unable to go back
To the silly thing I’d been before.
The night would churn itself,
Thick as creamed coffee,
Spinning us into its mausoleum
Of ancient elk and
The spiny thorns of pine.
He was the sophistication
To my school girl blues,
Reminding me that my best moments
Were still unspent as old coins.
His stories were pages
I could crawl into if I listened
Hard enough to the fancy enunciations
Of his Mid-Western drawl
on cozy winter nights,
too awake of caffeine,
The baby’s howl in my left ear,
Lightning strike in my right.
I was Alice trapped between two covers,
One side metaphor, the other distant memory,
When we burst across the sky
One hot July night,
Starving script-writer meets poet,
An explosion of two distant stars,
Spinning into the shiny matter
Of one another,
Planetary lovers, Neptune aligned,
The Cancer to my Pisces,
The psychics’ perfect match.
We were a brilliant concoction
Of cheap convenience-store beer
And the rusty midnight trains of Waits,
So rich you could almost drink us,
And too drunk on the prolific debates
That pulled us into each other
Like magnetic poles
Folding a complete universe together,
We’d talk ourselves into a 3am stupor
And awake with the enunciation
Of Elvis across our lips,
An eight-hour separation
Between Chicago and Kentucky
The splitting imageOf one star broken in half.