i want to know again
[from Making Love To Other Women – poetry]
i will find my next great love
there will be no trail of little black dresses
across the countryside
i will slow down the runaway train
i will listen
i am patient
i wait with intention
i listen and learn
even what I am saying I want
changes
and she will assemble for me
necessary shapes and smells
she will embody
i will find the next great love
and I will love again
fully
willfully
hopefully
without tether
actively seeking
i slow my roll
i clear and cleanse my palette
i get quiet and hollow
i can feel the emptiness
that once was filled
full
joyous and thrilling
she arrives when she comes
she arrives and asks me the tough questions
she had other plans
she opens just a little to see how I will respond
i am not waiting for someone to board my train
i am not looking for enmeshment
i am looking to stand strong and together with her
when she is ready to let me in
when the trust, and passion, and easy living of life
is too much to resist
she will be in my arms
and I will know
i have arrived
at possible
again
i had her once and lost
i will have her again
she is mine
she is ripe
she waits without waiting
she knows nothing
everything is an opening before us
and in the fresh air of the morning or the late chill of the evening sky
i can imagine what it will be like to be with her
here
in this moment
and she is fluttering nearby
she is sleeping
it is late
i cannot reach out to her just yet
it is too soon to tell
what kind of lover she will make
it is too soon to meet her child
it is too soon to hope beyond the doubt that awakens inside the hopefulness
it is too soon to give my poem an object
if we find a connection
and we both ask for more
if she listens and speaks
if her flame is brightening and warming
if i know anything, i know that i love well
and i will love her with everything i have
i do not hold back
i know that i will love well again
i know that the little black dress is a metaphor and a gateway
i am looking for that drug that never ceases to amaze
that cosmic mist
to come over our eyes and make everything sparkly
radiant
abundant
possible
i want to sleep, laugh, cuddle, caress on into my hundreds
and i’d like to do it with one more woman
all these sirens are confusing
i think i know
i don’t know
i want to know again
4-27-13
after the state of getting
[from Making Love To Other Women – poetry]
she had the most beautiful shoes i’d ever seen
and she stepped out of them like a fragile animal
on alert
she had arrived ready
she knew what she wanted
fear and excitement can seem as the same
in this moment, there was no mistaking
the flutter from the fever
there would be no flight
except into the snare of my lips
and bed and
breath
knowing, wanting, and getting
are very different states
in the state of getting
the little black dress was simple and sexy
and expendable
any description here would break the spell
spoil the mystery
and the mysterious sacred journey of lovemaking
as she was putting the beautiful shoes back on
i couldn’t help but watch
fascinated
the snare released, the quarry smiling and unhurried
her pretty legs now moving with a new tremor
released, relaxed, satisfied for a brief moment
we were together
we are not
and the afternoon becomes a wash
memories and smells overwhelm all obligations
in my daydream stare out the window
i notice movement in the grass
and notice my sleepiness
i return to the bed
alone
4-6-13
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