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I’m an entertainer…

I’m an entertainer, she said
Whatever you and I do together
it’s all for the gods of momentary pleasures, pretend...
It’s all for the magic burn, it’s all just for fun, laughs and sex
For the sweetest of sweetness...
Fine dear, but get real with me now, for a little—
Can you miraculously see without the sensation of sight?
Hear, with no sense of hearing or touch, without knowing it?
It was important to her, very
If she were to want him
others had to want him too
We compete with each other
Fight and scratch our poisonous little snaps
embarrassed to be the victim again,
embarrassed by the slightest deprivations
in our sad crease points, our sinews
She tried to kill him and her too
Shot him in the shoulder
Unloaded the rest of the gun her way
and missed—the bitch failed to hit her at all
Every so often I notice
that there’s no one on this dry path with me
that I’m here totally alone
It still stuns him to think of her, always
She was, you could say, a lovely woman
in her own way
Happiness often depends
on who you have breakfast with
But one tough little lady, to put it mildly
I want to be with her, sometimes I really do
On camera he can break out crying instantaneously
Turn the camera off and his tears spontaneously dry
My grandmother said, get this, in front
of several of my mother’s good friends
She has terrible BO and must use a very strong antiperspirant
“You know that old woman is crazy”
One of my mom’s friends told her later
a bit incredulously
History is tragedy, it’s not morality
It’s no morality play
That comedienne, poor thing
He died, her love, and now she’s old and alone
She cries to herself in the morning
She cries to herself in the evening
But she sure has warmed to us—
Her funny face, her acerbic wit
keeps us in stitches all day,
all through the day
These old guys, these old athletes,
when we lose, we usually know why
Can’t jump quite the way we used to
Can’t always run there soon enough
But, we’re not as likely to be fooled or riled up
Bareness, simplicity, loftiness and depth
In company he can be silent, indolent and reserved
Action is momentary, it’s the feelings that stay with him
You say you’re a musician—
So why can’t you sing as free and light as those birds?
Don’t you go stirring this up again
That’s something old and gone,
and you need to get by from it now
Then, there she was, a ghost on her knees
by the coffee table, in the living room,
the dear one back home, back home again for me

 

 

-June 8, 2013-