Thursday, December 6, 2012

Tribute to the Dedication of the Memory of the Poem that I Wanted to Write But Didn’t


It started out okay.
There were words about the
dryness of my hands and lips.
There were words about the
temperature of my heart as it
beat longingly in my chest.

There were words about the
scruffiness of the stubble on my
chin and grinding and gnashing of
my teeth as I slept while my
dreams worried about being a
lonely guy forever.

There was flowery language
about the soft shape of a
woman’s face and the curves of
her body. There was even a
pregnant

pause

to solidify my deep and
meaningful desire to stop
this solo and single game.

I wrote about booze and
how the drink always keeps
me up too late, sitting on my
couch wondering where I went
wrong and why I went wrong and
how come I do the things I do
when there’s so much else I could
do.

Which led me to think of a poem of
such power, such magnitude, such
importance to the advancement
of the human species, to the understanding
of the human heart and mind. It was
beautiful and stirring and it would have
made the Devil cry tears of gold and rattled
the pillars of heaven.

It would define the laughter of
children and redefine what it
meant to deeply and honestly
love someone.

Then I fell asleep.
And it was gone.

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