Not Much For Explicits

 

ask myself

why i doubt him so,

where he goes on quick tip-toed explanations

of why he must, what good it does me

and who it is,

by chance, he will pay a visit;

 

"when?"

is all i muster to ask,

with our  wok'd lunch of fried pan & moo goo

served

in August, the fourth blustery day...

 

he seems to glisten, while we eat,

as if he did not hear me,

eyes on asian murals painted on the bricks,

side-stepping to return to mine...

"Tomorrow"

he begins, again, composed

wiping his brow with a thin crumpled napkin,

complaining of the humidity,"i will be leaving

for a couple nights or so...i think..."

 

he is perspirating

not much for explicits

thought

at least a name

of a place.

barely believeable at all, that.   i nod

brief agreement,

and silent to show him that i fell for it...

 

he washes down his nerves

with sips of water, i in turn;

dragging the intervals of quiet like

in airport-like lines, i wait

for the next flight of casual carry-on's

luncheon conversation;

his mind is delayed today

unusual but i am sure,

 

later tonight, the schtick will be solid

with dates, contacts, & made-up mission

statements on embossed company paper,

and i will believe

always, without fail,

 

remembering

the why  of my doubt & wonderment,

a footlight in shadow questioning.

it is true

he is linear, organized, & works hard(it's obvious

in there, lies)

a loving man protecting me

from harmful truths i scratch at,

why is it

i love him,  how?                          i do not know...  i just do

 

love and suspicions

 

reboarding... 

a ticket to fly on

suspended mourning...

 

 explanations are always boring,

 

Author's Note

Edited from it's original version found on myspace...

Reviews

[Rodwonder]

This has good pace and rythm... It's always the things unsaid that are most...