It's an artic night in Baltimore - & all my friends have come & gone again. Flying through the starry skies with heavy navy clouds. Wish I could reach up & part them like waves. Wish it was next time already - March with all its plans.
My how great it is - was - a moment ago just then. So close to grasping onto the idea itself. Everyone's trains & planes & dreams away -- everything in planning & earnest fruition too. The joining together of NEW plans & stories. (What blessings!) And the pulling apart too...
Turn & meet - the New Year. It looms next, like tonight's solstice, and everything feels delirious. Tooth aching. Something aching, remembering the promises unkept of last year. The shimmering potentiation that seemed to sparkle above it all. Determinations all answers lay just a year, or sooner, away. What collisions!
And so we make up whatever answers come to mind in strange wake-ups before dawn.
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You can dream more safely than moving - of the one really wanted. Douse every sweet inch of imagined skin & night with fullest romance. If you took her, blushing, and committed to passion for eternity of nights never lived yet.
Because the thing - it lives. Survives something of you & her - that neither will ever, really reach. Throw a match to the gasoline all the same - in tumultuous raucous sleep. Hating your instincts & loving her; get the rest really needed. Wake & repeat.
We deal our souls into a secrecy - making a quake of desires. Sacred as the eyes leading two to there... The majestic, beautiful, fucked, triumphant failure of wanting & pushing away all at once. Think yourself so proud & grown and feel so...disoriented in every leap that isn't her. So why don't you just steal? Just another sin added to the list, but what of it? -- if she's lying there when you wake, and wake again -- in stead of disappearing like cobwebs back in another nightmare. Trace her body like you would the lines of words & parables & pieces of dust on that lonely bed of yours. Make the phantom so carefully imagined real and so terrifiying..ingly into you. Because maybe this time love won't be the failure. Maybe you'll save yourself in the pools of her eyes, or the ointment of condensation dripping down her chest...
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Got 'till the clock strikes midnight, of ANY nights this dear year. And that's what it's like.
It can be that close -- or that far into seas or stars.
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