| |
|
|
| |
margoshka contemplates, ruminates... meditates on life, love, basketball, poetry, choice, and the lack thereof. |
|
|
| |
|
|
| |
Friday, September 06, 2002
which proper way
who is to say which is the way-
which is the proper way for us to play out the charade-
who is to judge which one of us fights the cleanest-
growls the meanest, moans the clearest.
all i can do is divine me from you-
subdivide this my truth, and corrale the excuses I hear-
into neat pre-packaged plastic wrappers, plain yet dapper-
to make it easier for my heart to digest the mess which I profess-
this fear which i express but can over-pass with a gentle nudge-
from a partner who doesn't ask for much, in this dance-
this sad romance, this partnership which has no chance to advance-
and I look askance at all those happy doubles on the streets-
their eyes wide open and gazes untroubled. and i wonder-
how they navigate the murky waters, do they grow hotter-
or do they freeze together, no matter what the weather,
finding safety in the other, and happiness in the soft safe pleasure.
How do they measure their delusions and their fears-
do they pefrorm traditional rituals from year to year-
exchanging gifts on the proper days, and basking in the sun rays?
My frowns never alter their bustling parade,
and their swelling ranks, exchanging thanks, and throwing up arms for joy-
their pregnant bellies distented, full from love, from desire, from denial,
is everyone self-lying?
maybe just me, sitting beneath my whispering tree.
maybe just me, wishing on stars for ballgowns and missives that can never be.
maybe just me, delaying the truth which I see, and choosing to live in fantasy.
maybe just me...
|
|
| |
|
|
|
|
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home