From The Outside...

Around six, when the evening is newly born,

 

from outside looking in,

the Livingroom is glowing, warmly,

a scene framed - a golden art

piece - like autumn golden fireplaces,

 

as the wilderness from out here,

loud and cold

with refrigerated business-like traffic

of city-slickers’ & strangers’ blinker

stares

 

an ant-farm of transience...

 

The applause of cars zipping by,

the hum of the freeway beyond the hill,

construction, shoreline, and

seagull’s oceanus compositions - does not fit

this movie before me

 

act one

of a black-romantic-comedy:

     for I am inhaling my cancerous death,

     leaning on the railing

to the front door - closed,

cold

 

from the outside looking in,

our life appears cozy

there,

     the log is alight with my dreams,

and my love (with it’s heavy beauty and loyalty)

has filled my eyes

with a mist

 

covering the truth of my feelings

for you ... the reality is

this is home-life

my holiday wish - with us together,

 

From the outside,

I feel the invitation like an urge

to keep you

safe & warm - as you

keeping me . . .

 

Looking in, you are there

napping on our spinning

love-seat,

    possibly dreaming of me . . .

I am drenched

in hope

in wishing

 

never leave...