You flash pearly whites and
strobe light intuition turns me on
to things you whisper in the darkness
under the layers of

oh-no-honey-It’ll-be fine-it’ll-be-everything;
I’ll be your band aid and washrag.

Searching through the misty haze of flashfiction,
I elevated passed the first two layers,
and, pausing atop your sleeping carcass,
caught the first glimpse of translucency.
Crouching down, I smiled that knowing smile,

No, see, there was a circus that passed through
and the tracks and smell are prevalent,
Those sweat stains and soap scum, which I had sluiced
downdown your hands, thighs, legs, and impulses.

But you stood atop my memory and flashed
those white washes, those walls and picket fences that you
assembled to keep yourself from having to deal.

Oh no, now, love, sing me asunder,
sing me through these avalanches.
I’ve missed you then, and only in the times
when I stop to pause.

Feet shuffle a shakeshimmyandroll dance and I
pan the floor for the time when I should have
stepped in; offered. Offered myself, or otherwise.
Offered myself on that flesh altar, glitz, glamour, myrrh and
feeble promises unfulfilled.

But you offered, and I signed in marrow, undertaking a
snapshot romance which enables me now to
whisper; fingers still across your cheek,
whispering the cryptkey
because,

I still see right through;
I see you, the translucent dream you tried to sell
this ancient beggar with vacant hands.

03/02/2009

Author's Note: Okay, repetition is on purpose. Bass Crenshaw is a darling for trying to help get me through these first layers of starting over. Thanks for the topic, Fishmongerer!

Posted on 03/02/2009
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