Open waters, a call, now, to artists; maria speak easy—talk off the cuff: i want the truth! What you really thought when your wife abandoned you—i thought nothing, no, nothing, nothing at all save despair
the fantasy begins to look increasingly real; but be suspect of all that you feel—since, literally, it’s all in your head. that’s where this woman - look, now, she shines a light!
turn up the heat, turn up the sound: no, on second thought, turn it all down. If I had a secret, then I’d be planning ahead—anticipating your next move and speaking to that instead of what you think you need or want right now.
feel the fire, woman, on my leg; ambitious as heck but hiding it so well. no sense in beating a dead horse. You love him, you love me—we’ll get there together; people get what they need? Yeah, you—i came, i saw, i conquered.
then, after that—i choose a wife; i can be old and she can be young; i count my many blessings: payback for the action I sprung. so see me loud and clear—rational mind! hard to understand; but i can see it a little clearly, now, as the day unfolds—moving to some other woman
it happens to the best of us. I’ll be a dad in my sixties—that’s how this all cracks up: you, my love—no longer mine—you turn into Him—reality is blind.
I’m onto something comparable—wanted X marks the spot—you’ll never know me, or the love that I, with His assistance, managed to purchase. Sweat, blood, tears; addict-ed—acne on my back, working jobs i had no business doing, thinking that i must be something else
besides this one—onward, to the next one, what else? But it’s not like that—or is it? I cannot tell; no, someone will be here at the end—they’ll realize how important I am—and what, above all, i’m connected to—
futures, ahem, that don’t even belong to them; déjà vu—for a moment; yes, i can safely say: you, woman, do not love me today—real as it seems, in my mind’s eye, as the day wears on, you let me down
you look up to me—but you don’t want to be my wife; live a relatively normal life—your life, without being swallowed up in mine! but you let me down, because, sister, i thought you were for real;
She’s merging with Elvis, now; but I don’t love you like some people do—peanut butter, banana, bacon; you’re a complete and total screw-up? But say it ain’t so! Alas, getting dumped again; but you’re sphinx i see in my mind’s eye, can’t get you out of my head—you don’t know me yet, or things i might say, if and when, you tell me, for good,
it’s the straight and narrow path for me—no room in my back pocket for the man i look up to; be that, kind sir, i have a man of my own; call him Jesus; who’s dumping who?
Did i do okay today? left handed toothbrush
lady luck doesn’t [fuck] she makes love
she wants a star in her sphere—hurry, hush!
i’m here for my heir—and all things thereof:
My home is in the hills: you’d get bored, here
looks like it’s me, then, that’s getting real,
taking a turn [at the turnpike] to be clear
i realize you’re not of the hope i feel
wondering, now, what comes next; it might
be easier to expunge you from my mind;
but i can’t do that—lady luck’s a fright,
but what—then, do I accept? designed
a little blinded by the obvious? a waitress?
i don’t know what I want: I think you do,
yeah, maybe, but maybe I don’t—impress
me, then, with the shame i must construe:
I’m out of your league? is that me talking
to you? You’re the [fucking] president,
what, exactly, did I expect? I want an heir,
a life, love—a pregnant body for rent
i can’t settle down with anyone; why must
i talk with you? You’re not as powerful
as the women, at once, that remain a bust—
known—by all, once you pay me in full
what you’re doing right now—showing
me your hand—a preference for
the missionary position minus the king
no children: I need the DNA - the shore
the buoy i leave for my grandkids to grieve
all of that means something, lass, to me
i leave you for those that can conceive
you don’t get what you want, but what you need
and that—well, it’s only been a year
or two; the short life of the DOJ
department of justice - don’t go near
the lioness; she’s not exactly okay
thinking, as she does, that I’m, well,
too prolific, too much, too intense, for her
writing, as i do, for a different hell,
and yet I want her to want what I prefer
as i become a man—she looks up to me
do i look down when i think of her?
guess it doesn’t mean much, once i’m free
the conduit i trust is the path I incur
you’re breaking my heart, telling me
what i already know—the long way around
learned it the hard way; i depend
on women that that can have children
it’s a dealbreaker—but not, i insist, my choice
i want you—i turn Him to you, i screw
myself inside and out; but the answer i voice
is the resignation you feel when i, in a few,
become what you rue: god’s little warrior
forging a path that connects, lo, to life
to come—and all His horny creations
what? let’s keep this casual? is that a knife,
cut me to the quick, tired of your joke
i really wanted a partner that I could see
all at once—a married life for me; so to stoke
the flame you—what passion do you foresee?
it’s either there or it isn’t—you weren’t
there for me? how can i know what is what?
this has something to do with the life you burnt
when you bent over and said, “Not in the butt!”
And maybe not—what happens to me, when
years later, I work up the courage; a family
to boot—she’s not a good person, all for men
duplicitous, happy to deceive, carefree
and belonging, no children, mind you, what
do tell? the honeymoon lingers, but begins
to wear off: imperfections reveal what is shut
the portal to pregnancy ends with our sins
years on end; this chunk of my internal life
living on the line—what we had, it fades?
what’s to replace you—change up the wife?
must i give up your voice? for another?
a voice that i hear in my mind’s ear—belonging
to some imaginary person far from here—
always so very far away, coming
for me, it surely stung; happy to be in his
arms—the arms of a man that grounds you
as opposed, I guess, to what I’d do: send
them to me, the people, god forbid, you screw
sharp as a whistle, i implore you, amend
the person i foresee—i see her bleeding
out of me; but it’s all a nightmare, right?
Do tell? What am i thinking? that I can’t
have you and share you with my friend
that you won’t stand for it? not there,
Jose, and i think to myself, what gives?
One of us will have to change? grin and bear
it, sister, for the sake of my heir
getting back together after years of
neglect—psych! but all of this is one
possible route—in the other you love
this totally fucked up man for none?
but say it ain’t so—i live in the present
speak truth to power minus the freak,
tell me, Jose, is she, in bed, heaven spent,
or does the devil do best to make it bleak
a woman perfect for the country
but, not, at the same time, truly authentic;
nothing raw or cutting edge? for me
to latch on to—to make it all stick?
I live in the future, come down to me;
but i know better than to lie to this one,
two souls that live to leave the party
a moment, shared, then out of the sun
star-crossed paths beneficial for a time
helping each other realize what’s possible,
but again, i ask, my fantasy—my rhyme?
if I never married, lass, i wouldn’t ask why