no fugue

(2:10pm, fri02mar)

thanks for bearing with me

as i reassemble scattered bits;

i swear they were a memory, once

(at least that's how i remember it) -

it seems to me that i used to be a lover

but Love hopped a late plane out west,

not in fugue as i'd hoped

but a new name nonetheless

and a fresh face to protect the innocent,

yeah, no fugue

but a mid(?)-life(?) crisis(?)

"i been gone a long, long time,"

Love touching down in vegas,

beautiful springtime desert;

"now help me fill up on whiskey and women,

i've got promises to break

and good names to tarnish!"

not so static as rumor would have it,

Love brought heart back to

the good people of sin city (all two of them)

then ran, chasing ghosts further westward,

escaping from the mother of all hangovers,

leaving all the little moist details

for the scribes to sort through.

and, once safely on the coast,

Love added up all the betrayal,

all the fast-held secrets and regret;

the sum, then, appearing as a face

not nearly as lost to time as was apparent -

a soft face, slightly judging,

impossibly forgiving,

into whose ears poured every apology,

whether uttered aloud or whispered alone.

the setting sun caught the tears in her eyes,

their glow rivaling the sad sweet smile on her lips.

cry all you like but she'll never answer direct,

nor will Love be tempted to speak again,

resting on the hood of a car parked on a beach

softly, they both are lulled to sleep

by the din of the seagulls' screech...

and then we all woke up in our beds,

yes, you and me, and her as well

none the worse for wear

but perhaps a little crippled

by a brief brush with eternity --

(4:15pm)