No Dressing


I can^t

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carry you

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on my back

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into the ocean or

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feel the cold waves splash music throughout our
bodies or

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taste the desire to love from your salted tongue. I can^t embrace your warmth, but I can still remember.

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I can^t listen to you pour out secrets of your past life - the dirty old man next door, your very first love so you thought, your childhood fantasies of happiness and the white doll you cherished.

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I can^t fall to sleep in your massaging hands then feel you spatter my face with spitballs or 

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sit lower in my seat while you scold me to embarrassment on a crowded bus

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or have you insult my manhood as you "just thought of something funny" in the middle of a kiss.

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I can^t wreck your bike anymore, but I can still remember

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I can^t wrap you in my arms in sunlight-moonlight hours of restful calm trying to distinguish nature^s fragrance from your perfume, feeling the sting from your playful hand remind me that I^m squeezing too tightly.

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I can^t design with you plans for our future lives or

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touch that once sensitive soul, now so unconcerned or

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re-live the moments you whispered you loved me.

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I can^t see your smile, but I can still remember.

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I can^t walk with you from downtown to uptown to downtown until day breaks, then wipe a tear that tells me "one week will seem like forever." Don^t I know it. I can^t talk with you for hours and never tire. I can^t,
but I can still remember.

pam1

I can^t stand the cackling sound of your skull rolling ^round the wheels of a truck or feel the horror of total uselessness as you scream my name or see your lovely brown eyes sink in blood. I can^t watch you die,
but oh, God I can . . .

pam1