we talked of the smell of sex
of serial killers losing their touch
in the creative sense

we compared natal reports
tripping on astrology and whose
planet should entertwine with whose

we watched comedians in not so quiet
hesitation hoping that we'll find
Funny in atleast one...
we look with eagerness towards eachother
to complete thoughts, finish sentences,
to understand, to just know what the
other is thinking...

-ours not necessarily having to be a
"spoken" language and all-

we laugh at eachothers jokes though
mine are somewhat dry and incomprehendable
and we startle eachother often with the
intensity, the honesty in our eyes when we
gaze at eachother (and yeah, i've caught you
looking at me a time or two...
how 'bout you...)

and this could all be labeled perfect and we
could fit into a mold that the gods could
have only designed for us
but there's a wall.
and he's always sleeping quietly not 10 feet from
us when words become worn out and eye contact
is no longer enough
when lips gravitate and say, hey, we want to speak
a language all our own...
when
and then...
say someday he wakes up and discovers that we are
as close as he had hoped, only just a tad bit closer
and allofasudden in his eyes i become everything
his mother warned him about but you still remain
his best friend.
what then...

i'm playing for keeps on both sides of the court
but eventually something is going to cave in
so what then...

11/14/2002

Author's Note: i'm torn between two but couldn't trade either for the world even if it means my world will eventually crumble and i'll be left alone, staggering in the debris...

Posted on 11/14/2002
Copyright © 2024 Olivia Weinkein