One day should not be so long.
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One day and I should live.
How my life ought be ordinary.
How your life and etc too.
Yet life has contrived to keep us apart.
You, facing East, and me, facing West
Each thinking the other will see the very same sun.
This, some nominal consolation.
A pale thread that binds.
All day you run fast:
meeting each hard demand,
the books that pile up.
The papers unread and you go about your business,
make the routine calls; the family is fine.
You say your I love yous, intended, but rote.
And I, I am lost, driving fast and to where
it matters not; I feel the pressure
in my leg as my right foot hits the gas
and an Arabic love song wails,
it sounds to me that this woman is
wanting, has given up her rigid pride
and is calling the name of her lover.
We are not supposed to say such things.
We are supposed to be individual, singular.
But how can I be, when all along it has been we.
Since childhood – such games and now - ?
Much the same. You are still chasing me up
the marble staircase.
Still daring; the games of kissing cousins.
Still hiding in corners and still giving those
hot, furtive kisses, the ones that make me
come just like that, a trick, some magic.
Years later I still blush. You still laugh.
How then, love, can I go even one day
I am in love, I am a junkie, a dope-
-hound for your sex. I would lay
myself prostrate as if lying for divinity.
I would utter every prayer from our very
own book and I would chant your name
in rhythm because... But of course
this is forbidden. Love, Love, I cannot even
write it, nor form each letter. Today I
drove until the needle pricked 95 and
I screamed your name out loud
until my eyes brimmed full
with tears and I was sobbing,
a void without you.
I know I will tell you of all this.
That soon we will simply be and
you will trace these ginger freckles,
a game of which you never tire,
and I’ll cry as I relive the day and
you’ll pull me close to your chest,
warm and redolent, you will tip my chin
as always and will kiss away each tear and
tell me, Say it… and I will say
your name out loud because no-one
can hear us. Verboten matters not.
You tell me how --
you love the way that it rolls off of my tongue,
that none other sounds as right as when I…
and that night, that night when we make
love and you … and then I… you leave
my mouth uncovered and I will scream
your name countless times and nonnonnon
an equal number and you whisper
one hushed and hot word and that is
s.r.p, c. 2006, http://www.tantmieux.squarespace.com/