The Allure of Umbrellas

Trapped behind shutters watching the rain,
he wants to feel the dampening spirits,
to be surrounded by waterfalls.
Oh! an umbrella:
The possibility of play, of observation,
the fearless pursuit of ambiguities.
Yet, there is only rain if he cannot dance.
There is only water without static shock.
Steamless, meaningless rain.
The allure of umbrellas never has tempted him so.

Yesterday's Fire

When we met, you had long hair and you weren't a lesbian.
I couldn't imagine sitting in a living room watching Golden Girls
in my underwear, drinking tequila and blackening my lungs.
You tempted me with secrets when I disappeared to
fuck men from Texas before I realized this city is burning,
everyone smoldering in ashes of yesterday's fires.
Last winter, I forgot how the trees looked with grass carpets
Because we only knew fire and dirt and midnight sirens painting everything blue.
I don't remember the taste of innocence or the first feelings after it was gone, but
I remember the smile you held between breathes of nicotine and Turkish blend.
We weren't the ones abandoning, but those abandoned. Forgotten?
We play with ashes waiting, the only things left: memory and remnants, and
I keep repeating those phrases, letters -- words.
I didn't smoke before Brooklyn.

Summertime Poetry.

Coney Island


I hear your voice on the television set
Reading letters sent back home.
There are whispers on the ocean,
Speaking promises of closeness.
They caught an eel with your name
Scrawled in cursive on its back.
Come back august sky.

---

Obsession.

Smile pretty, baby,
we have to look nice.
Show me your dimples.
Look at your rosy cheeks.
There. There you go.
Stand up straight.
When are your getting your hair cut?
Can we go to Coney Island?
Or maybe that one building. please?
There's this wax museum I read about
Or a garden in Brooklyn.
Brooklyn's so pretty, baby.
Just like you.



---

Replacement.

You hold me like porcelain in your palm,
delicately skimming the surfaces with your
Webbed hands, tickling my hair,
trailing tears down my spine.
I smell the sound of silence.
You left me on a shelf and
I watched you love from afar.
I am silent and unchanging
but not so easily broken as that.
You could not take me down again.
I played your little blow-up doll.
You laced me with pearls and soft kisses and
I never once broke for you.
But you put me on a shelf and
hid me from the world.
You loved again, but how could I know?
I climbed down and saw him
sitting on your bed, holding the lion
That flew 1000 miles to say he loves you.
His mouth is taped. I fall down.
But I am not that easily broken.

----

Coffee Shop

My days are empty but for these promises.
Closeness from 1000 miles away.
These plastic covers turn blue skies brown,
but there is no sun in Brooklyn.
We'll enjoy the picayune limelight
Wrapped in the warmth of our own light.

---

Point of Contact

You stopped breathing until we touched.
The point of connection where my fingers
met your back resuscitated your lung.
I felt your rise and fall,
saw the tundras melting,
leaving dew drops in your hair.
There is no winter in Texas,
but you come from the summerless land.
When we meet, it's autumn or spring,
the point where our summer meets solstice.
My breath shakes the dew from your hair.
Your heart beats in my palm.
The orchids are blooming,
Our leaves turn yellow and red.

Standard

You gave me little. I smiled. Accepted.
Bemusement. Hope. Enticement. Love?
Before we kissed, you told me you loved me.
Forbid me speak when we did.
I gave. You smiled. Accepted. Accepted again.
Time. Body. Sex. Devotion. But love?
When we lay in bed, I wanted to speak words.
Your fingers blocked my lips. The letters.

Standardized loving isn't loving.
But I need standards or I'll find you again.
I will love you again and hope.
Be still my gentle heart, I'm bleeding
For some other broken soul.
One more broken soul.

And we will love until you're through.
And I will love and move on.

My heart is full. Rooms with portraits,
Altars for the love of loss.
And so I love you still.

I fail your standards
So you leave me
Standing, kneeling, crying
on the altar
Where I exist alone
With a faceless god not present.

And I set standards so I
never need create a room.

March

We dreamed of chasing sunlight between
buildings on the streets of Brooklyn,
of laying under the stars outside the
valley of the flooded city.
There were bluebonnets in Texas when
I flew past the clouds to
land in stagnant puddles and
kiss you on the landing strip.
We explored cities I read about, and
we loved. we loved. we loved.
I dreamt about March in Texas
where I never thought about always or never.
I woke up somewhere between bluebonnets
and stagnant puddles in your arms.

Rings

Somewhere between our midnight and 6 am
I learned to never hang up first
I hear me office phone vibrate
5 seconds before it rings and
answer before you realize you called
We say goodbye 30 times before our bodies mean it
We whisper mutual love after sleep affects our thoughts
We're not ready yet for two Claddagh rings.
Soon, though, I won't realize you called before
your voice is in my ear.
Then, then we won't need rings anymore.

An Original Play

One: (Seated with Two)
We have sat.
Two:
We have watched.
One:
We have sat and watched. (Two nods)
For three weeks. (Two nods)
We have sat and watched as people walked by without saying a word.
We are deaf. They mouth what we call words but they say nothing.
We are deaf. (Two nods)
For three weeks we have sat and watched as people walk by speaking but
saying nothing and we wonder. (Two nods). We wonder if we are real or if they
are or if none of us are real at all. (Two nods).
We have sat and watched and seen.
Two:
I have seen a girl in pink track suit walking her dog and saying words to her dog
and conversing with the bearded man in a trench coat who heard only the wind.
One:
We have seen a girl in a pink track suit and a dog and a bearded man.
Two:
I saw the cracks in the pavement swallow words I was meant to hear but never
could because I am deaf.
One:
We are deaf.
Two:
I am deaf. The cracks told me. I am deaf.
One:
We leave. (stands)
Two:
I am deaf. The pavement told me. The girl and the dog told me. The bearded man
listened to the wind that told him I am deaf.
One:
What? (two nods) I leave. (exits)
Two:
(stands) The earth soothes me. (he sits on the ground) I listen to the words
from the cracks. They tell me I am deaf. We all speak but words. I am deaf.