No More Blind Dates Please

Your glass of wine speaks to me more than your lips do. You've gone pale ale while the wine keeps it rouge all through fermentation. Has your brain gone dry or do you have lock jaw? Let me help you. I will order some gelato to keep it from freezing up. Bad move? I didn't know you were lactose intolerant. What's my sign you ask? The stars don't govern my life, but if I were to choose I would be somewhere between the Orion's Belt and Steamers Lane right now. I guess we're incompatible. No use exploring.

Finches

Girls fly around him like finches in a dry fountain. They try to take a dip but he never gives. Even in his age he has never once opened when it was meaningless. He will feel when he knows and if he doesn’t know then he will wait cautiously as they attempt to gently remove his wilted feathers. Sometimes when he drinks he feels more like himself, or at least a part of who he used to be. He forgets that the part he lost was not really him, it was only a temporality that he shared. The empty place that remains is not reserved for a new wing. He knows that only he can fill the space and he looks for a life of eight years lost to explore. There are treasures of experience he lacks, but the care for another blocks his ambitions of being young again. Separation is his fountain of youth, but he is swimming like a 200 year old sea turtle in a pond of tadpoles. Only Darwin would be interested in his  slow paced love life.

Sleep Induced

Comfort eyes

Emotionally Lobotomized

Stony lids weigh

down

heavy

sight

Dreamy dawn WAKES my face

Endless walls                          to sky

from ground

A broken heart and set to foot

Moving legs

highways

Run away

Waves of of red breaking memories

             from land to shore

No escape

dead end

collapsing

door

Coverup

Cratered faces of time never heal.

Just ask the moon.

A scar here, a stitch there.

Powdered paint is for the feminine peel,

layering their sun spotted skin.

"It's natural," they say,

"to cover the decay."

But not for time worn men.

We don't use makeup.

It's not for us.

We are a different class of human;

somewhere beyond age
and never able to cover up.

Love is beyond us.

Looks keep out company,

even a simple conversation.