so frustrating this, you
not here, this, me
caught caged and full of care
and so to you, from me
the sands shall sparkle
beneath my feet
as these words meet and greet
the silent sleet of my
defeat
we were driving first to that store
and as usual there was me: bored
you held open the door
and I snapped from my snore
to laugh at the six dollar lights
lining that Swiss-cheese particle board
"Look," I said, "they come in only white
not orange, purple, not even red."
and you ran your hand over my
unfiltered head which was dripping
with the dread of another
'tIS THE SEASON
you knew my reason
my ineptitude at copping a merry
attitude in those aisles or those streets
which proved to me that you
were true
remember we drove past the trailer park
and I immediately had to bark
"Hey, aren't those the same damn lights
You know, from the other night?"
and you smirked and dipped your gaze
me, smiling at your silent praise
as again I barked when we drove past Ritzy Town
and past the mansions gowned
in the same six-dollar frowns
How does anyone know
why apart or closer people grow?
frenzied lust and hazy bust
spring from trust and crack the crust
of life and laughter and love
you used my real name,
my middle name
the one on my birth certificate
when you came
and when you went
on your way
that day
and not a word else did you say
so I sat scratching that head
you'd caressed in that light shed
thinking I must be one of those
strands of six dollar lights
we ran through our hands
only now I'd gone from mansion
to trailer park
and the only home left
would be under six feet of finished bark
but before i made any mad me plans
I remembered those strands shone
no matter their home
and i retouched my own head
and Jonesed for a new light
to plug into my holes
one not on a seasonal rack
in a shack or a tacky one-colored
veil
and like that day I got too drowsy
and slapped into that car
leaving your neck ajar
but still writing through the mar
I stepped out of "our"
and back into "mine"
I even bought one of those six dollar sets
to hang and shine
after six years
the bulbs still blink
even though I rarely think
of you anymore
so at the end of this one babe
consider closed the door
cross off this Christmas list
make a wish and no you won't be
missed
Ellee 2001
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