Blue Sorbet

he wanted to be the one playing
piano at the beach, sweet splash
bell sonatas, the surf wetting shoes,
socks, foot stool bases and melody pedals.
He wanted to wear fashionable clothes
lean jackets and dark trousers
hanging off bean pole limbs like
scarecrow rags or the rain
behind a lamp post
at dusk.
He wanted to be firm of jaw
with a shag mop do
an eye filled with pirate glisten
the curving lips just made for kissing
and hands the color of wine spit
all at once both milk soft and callous bit.
He wanted to know when to be happy
and when to be sad,
when to make others laugh
and when to make them cry.

~*~

A dark night on some old friends birthday
a car ride through night time black,
along green fir causeways that wind
about mountains like trails of wet wind
writhing across outstretched arms,
moon roof reaching for hidden stars
and something warm to hold onto
that would never let go.

~*~

I can silly sit
on this couchless veranda
waiting for sunup and Sunday
and listen for the phone call I know will never come.
I can walk around a lampless park
and shuffle crazy steps
through the cardboard wet,
sniffing in the sick nose drizzle
for the blueberry sex scents
of naked mornings and breakfast pancakes.
I can pretend we never ate candles
or drank hot wax,
that I had any yearnings
for what would be next.
But what i can never do
is talk about the present
like I've already forgotten the past.