There are many love songs I haven’t written
but some were written by others
and the songs are
And I feel like falling
all over again
into the sky
where the nightingales spell your name
Where the stars look up to you
from where the moon shines on the strings of your hair
stuck between your lips and mine
And your smile
when you smile
poets feed their works to the fire
readers smoke more cigarettes
wine cellars age twice as fast
and I understand nothing anymore.
Resting on the pavement –
A cigarette and enough time
to look at a star up high,
a radiant fireball dripping splendor,
Perhaps I should go into this bar…
This binge started at some other bar, I’m sure.
I’m spinning on the bar stool, nauseous,
Two wine glasses dreaming of eternity;
a couple of tequila shots living carpe diem;
twin beer pints promising never to tell;
and, amid the racket, my tears.
The star’s a pale complexion with vivacious features,
with pronounced charms and grace,
and with a stare,
a stare that could divert Cupid’s arrow
She gets up – supple waist –
And comes my way.
A swarm of pelicans take flight inside of me.
She stands before me.
Venus holds my hand,
opens her mouth…
Nothing comes out and I understand it all.