04 September 2010

central park after dusk


the street lamps shone like fat full moons but we picked
the darkest path to follow its winding course led us past
boys playing basketball without a hoop and a small dog
that scurried out from under a bench i almost screamed but
i knew you’d protect me if it came too close and so i just
gulped down my fear and clenched it deep inside my knuckles

we sat on a hill that was more rocks and twigs than grass
and you crouched down and i wanted to say come here
but i didn’t we squinted in the dim moonlight to read poetry
we had written and we both knew that it was really about you
and it was really about me it was just one of those things
we could feel aching and sloshing around in our blisters

we lay in the dirt and felt prickly bug legs skittering over
our backs and under the hems of our jeans we let our shoulders
tilt into each other like it didn’t matter but we both tasted
the fire on our tongues from words we wanted to say i can write
a hundred poems abut you but they can’t spark the burn
under our ribcages the way those words would if we let them go.


Monkey Man said...

Beautifully romantic piece, Chris. I really love the line - we both tasted the fire on our tongues from words we wanted to say - excellent.

the walking man said...

It works Chris but love poetry just ain't in my extended vocabulary.