This is my own tragedy
This telepresence, of sorts
I, loving you
Self-created, for my imagination is that of a girl reading far too many fanciful tales of interplanetary affection and of camel-led caravans of the Orient
The dust of this all still surrounds me
Something I alone permit
Against God’s will,
I believe in you
A scrapper from the start
Scratching and scraping
And giving
Her all
A lover to the end
Shine and sparkle
And dapper
Surround her
It’s talkin’ to me,
the Galaxy. Suggesting
that I move beyond.
Should I behave
As a proper afterthought
Maybe
But know I will not
Nor am I sorry
For, a relegated me
Wearing invisible ink
Can never be
You, Pontiac boy
Ever-beaconing muscle-car radio
Oldies songs all the way
Turned up
I, Chevy girl
Ever-grasping the volume knob
Ripped it off, tossed it out
My window
Pictured us
Forever grooving, reminiscing
Life-long love song
We’d drive
Just a single dance
With zero expectations
Was all I hoped for
Last season’s daisies
Make way for coming clover
Then…perfect poppies
Misplaced since forever
I, being still the optimist
Will nevertheless forthwith only choose asterisks
Use lower case letters and mocking-fingers-in-the-air quotation marks
But know my lips, crowned and reaching upward
Outside smiling, inside snarling
Speaking in only opposites
Shall never say so in earnest
Subtraction
We close our eyes alone each night
Takeaway
It’s always, always, freezing rain
The difference
The wintry side of the moon, it seems
Inner, last
What did we expect? There are rules
I’ll speak on in bliss
I’ll choose such feigned ignorance
We know what follows
LisaRosier.com 