from "beauty is a rare thing"

scene forty-six

last night you called for the first time in months, but the
ringer was turned off because i went to bed early. last
night you realized what an ugly thing you’d done, &
you were ready to swallow your pride, & say you were
sorry for the pain you’d caused. last night you let the
phone ring a dozen times, then hung up & tried again.
last night i didn’t hear the phone ring at all. last night
you poured yourself another glass of wine to give
yourself the courage to admit you were in the wrong,
& that you didn’t expect me to forget, but hoped i could
forgive. last night you rehearsed what you wanted to
say to me in the mirror, though i wouldn’t see your face.
last night you called until one o’clock. last night you
called emotionally spent. last night i never picked up
the phone.




scene forty-seven

there is no whole of the moon, only the dome light
of an old pontiac. we were sitting on your couch
watching yet another boring film. you had on a short,
transparent night gown. i was as i came. it was spur
of the moment. there were many of these moments.
i would slice off an idea & be raring to go, but you
always said—can’t this wait? you surprised me this
time. you didn’t bother to get dressed. we walked
out to my car. the ground was still warm from the
sun. we were both a bit cinched. we had different
drugs of choice that i’ve found don’t go well together.
i tried to overcome this. but i wasn’t about to adopt
your lifestyle. as soon as we got in, you began giving
me directions. i just wanted to drive. i don’t remember
where we went or what we saw, only that you talked
the entire time. when we returned i parked under the
streetlight in front of your house. i pulled you toward
me & kissed you long. you said it must be a full moon
tonight. but the sky was empty.




scene forty-eight

it could have been perfect. it could have been
beautiful. it could have lasted longer than six
months. it could have tasted like homemade
cheesecake with fresh strawberries on top. it
could have gone down like smooth aged whiskey.
it could have been a pure, unhampered with nod.
it could have motivated me to clean up my act.
it could have removed the bitterness in both
out hearts. it could have made us forget awhile.
it could have reduced the weight of the world
to a few question marks. it could have made
a huge difference in our lives. it could have meant
something to each of us, something that the other
didn’t understand. it could have been a barely
averted crash filled with adrenaline & radios that
continued to play through all the confusion. it could
have been soulful without the usual required suffering
we believe is needed to qualify love.




scene forty-nine

when you walk in the room i have to catch my breath,
& i can sense others doing the same. when you walk
in the room i subconsciously press my palm against
my chest, as if my heart might explode. when you walk
in the room i see no one but you. when you walk in the
room my emotions & biology are heightened, & begin
a frenzied dance, & i feel absolutely consumed. i feel i
couldn’t take any more. but i do. when you walk in the
room i lick my lips subconsciously, & feel my pulse
charging ahead, though i’m sitting shock still. when you
walk in the room my head slips into a purple velvet spin,
while my cell structure falls into an uninhibited groove,
& i swear i see sparks flickering & snapping & stinging me,
& the heat becomes so intense i burn with want. so you
finger what appear to be ashes, & i jerk & spasm & lose
myself so completely that i have to ask you later who
i used to be.