
Spend some time this warm Sunday
morning and visit Yareah, read my poem, and lots of other cool stuff!
http://yareah.com/2013/10/2249-poetry-technicolor-goodbye-word-rummager/
Unlocked.

Spend some time this warm Sunday
morning and visit Yareah, read my poem, and lots of other cool stuff!
http://yareah.com/2013/10/2249-poetry-technicolor-goodbye-word-rummager/
I knew your lips would be sweet
I’d been watching them for awhile
as you talked, smiled
I knew we’d fit when we danced
we’re too old to pretend otherwise
to believe in perfection
when just the feel of skin is enough
I knew morning would come too soon
the stars giving way to streaks of dawn
before we had exhausted our conversation
I’d always envied her
not knowing the heartache
the swirling sadness
beneath her perfect caricature
she chose to wear
since most people
only saw in two dimensions
she conquered that town
when others had forgotten
there was a battle
small minds versus lofty goals
I’d envied her style
her utter coolness
quietly full of life
and alluringly tough
she was always highly sought after
never an empty dance card
all the calendar squares full
she had hundreds of pressed flowers
from heartsick boys
but no one could find
the rights words to win her
I’d envied her smile
that emblazoned her face
brightening the darkest of days
and even more her sharp tongue
that scoffed at idiots and savants
not allowing anyone to drain her
of her wit or will to thrive
she saw her mirror image
in me
I provided a dark backdrop
for her to shine
I’d always envied her
but she wanted freedom
which I have in the background
and we’ve been happy
to bare our barbed wit
and roll in laughter at small minds
and secretly treasure pressed flowers
smooth my rough edges
when the day has gone to hell
give me some sweet words
this isn’t a noir film
this isn’t pretty
or glamorous
it’s gritty and dour and grim
saying goodbye at the train station
looks so pretty on a postcard
steam and smoke billowing artfully
men in fedoras
women in gloves
but when it’s technicolor
and it’s us
it’s heart-ripping, soul-trampling
bright fluorescent lights pierce
gaudy grime covers the train
the people on the platform
look like Van Gogh’s peasants
it’s all too sad
and I so want to play it cool
I have no cigarette to flick
you have no witty iconic statement
there’s no swelling music
just a plaintive
“don’t go”
that I keep to myself
but that you read in my eyes