Love letter to addresses unknown
I ain't the latest model
no fashionista this guy
you want style in your portrait
then don't ask me to get the wrinkles out of your clothes
or your soul,
I'll likely draw you naked
though I've no x ray vision
and if I seem dogmatic
its likely a fixed view from my cat
who does nuclear fission
with my mind
for I've likely got the flexibility
of the clueless,
enables me to land on my seat,
if not my feet,
which the shoe leather matches
the T Shirt upholstery
with the non designer levis
of my new ride
when not on my bike,
rather pedestrian,
so as not to be caught in the headlights
but drift by the street lamp
and the bus stop
watching out for the cracks,
so as not to step on them
and worsen mother's tennis game,
as its my back that's broke,
won't mention the cardio vascular system
you worried about
just my cholesterol levels
seem relevant,
in that if not broken by love
surely fatty deposits kill,
and I wouldn't want to remind you
any second go arounds may
be limited in time,
while professionally recycling those cans
I find,
while the traffic is in a rush
aluminum we crush,
e pluribus aluminum
like water into wine,
beer can into cash,
what else could we find,
if love not in this park,
Like perhaps,
I said I'd draw you naked, likely nude, rather stark,
you've gained a few pounds
likely from that trip to Europe
or sucking up to that loser I'm not
bit of a misanthrope
Not that I'm expressing any hope,
but like you, I hope he rots
twit was a bit of a snot
which I noticed seemed to drip
with your tears, last time
I noticed you for the first time in a long
while,
near your attorney's office,
Smile,
oops, I said I wouldn't do that.
I'd have offered you a kleenex
but we weren't supposed to be speaking
much less seeking
advantage since she moved out on me
but then we weren't married.
You and I never did that either
though you asked and I accepted
was it a bet
or just an offer on the table
to take up later.
hmmm
Its been eons
perhaps yet.
Cold? Coldplay?
I've no time for music trivia,
besides its tepid weather,
how is it you're still hot,
is it the change,
or you got some aces left dear Queen
I've forgotten you have the code to the universes thermostat,
or perhaps my un-air conditioned condition,
as at this point ignition not required,
not even to be hot wired,
I guess I'm just tired
of wondering just which of you that was, you know how the new memory chip
works in the new model of me.
Walking too and fro
I am an a hardly efficient
ice cream eater,
that cat not the pussy I had in mind
for intimate companionship,
rather know her for her mind
and sense of humor
that rings the bell of the
ice cream truck that delivers here
in the house that she and I once built
when I was still under construction
until the title company freed us in the divorce
from the mortgage for two
to the old age pension for one.
But then that happened before your model came out,
and the newer ones I see
offering web cam,
surely you have one by now.
I don't, but then
who would pay,
or want to see me typing
at a computer screen,
better to see my jpeg flickr account
or edited
at discount, better views of me.
of when I was
or what I'm doing today.
Still if your settlement isn't enough
you may have a new career possible
as you're still younger than I am
and can dye your hair.
Enough for another pair of shoes.
Imelda Marcos had more pair than I did
likely how she won at poker
despite an empty house.
Odd I was ever a spouse.
Still, the current Cat says I have potential
lets see, how many girlfriends is that in sequential
verses or memories entered on paper, parchment, or canvas
that can be floated as kites,
or sailed away in a tarred and feathered rigging
or sexy dreams on a feathered bed
unlike jail where the bed bugs bite,
grandma often warned me of
though she'd never been there,
in handcuffs you may sleep tight
but likely ready to see the warden
or the locksmith.
or back to the boudoir I'd certainly lock her out of,
but not you poetess, goddess, the other girlfriend
where poems not only read,
but lived out,
sensually on the kitchen or bathroom floor,
the front porch, down the steps
to the song of hers,
whatever that was
I don't have an I pod
seems odd,
you can't download a her
when you need one,
except on Craigslist, and I don't have a restricted number,
or paypal,
or wish to acknowledge I'm over 18, much less AARP membership.
Besides, after rent, the mortgage, a bit of food, the utilities, your pink slip,
and trade in of the cans,
the only wierd massage or escortatas
rented,
would have to survive, revive, and likely live on the pennies found by the curb,
thus showing I may remember what all that was like,
but don't mind living on fixed pension
if love be still free.
Frankly prefer most of my artistic pursuits,
even you, to be liberated
liberally,
with the freedom to end
or at least send a love letter
once in awhile
to address unknown,
So you don't get the idea
I know what bling is,
and all I have is that silver ring as
in you gave it to me
found it too cheap to pawn,
and to valuable not to wear,
as the runes remind me
of some game we played
in the dark.
If you're free,
I may run on unleaded,
but might need a jump
in case you still have the spark.
Jumper cables may seem a bit kinky
but its the only thing my batteries need
to get us going,
in case you remember which
terminals are positive and negative
and how much grounding we've burnt out
over these years
in the glory days of our youth?
Did you miss this middle of middle age also
I thought so.
explains so much, why when I draw cars in a picture, you can date them if I do the details too close to actual model number.
2006-09-04 17:50:15 GMT