Wednesday, December 1, 2021

The Streams

 


Let’s find those words,

the kind of words that flow together

in a nearly effortless stream,

conveying all the multiple

explosions of verbiage

needed to express

all the desires

in my

head.

 

Those words,

slippery little devils,

squirming away at the last moment

like eels in some greasy river

as you splash down into the brine

to reel one up by hand,

tricky and illusive,

and sometimes completely

wrong.

 

I was fishing for

gratitude and reeled up

envious tripe, which wriggled

and fought and so I gleefully

threw it back, knowing in this

mucky trickle there must be something

better to express my, my… words.

The words

in the muck.  

 

I want a partner to help me,

a confidant to let me know if

the word on the line is worth keeping

or if I should throw it back,

Love, or lust? Which should I keep?

Heartache or heart-break? Which do

I toss back?

Someone on the shore waiting for me,

as I wade knee deep in sucking mud.

 

Let’s find those words,

in this place, where they flow together,

and our bodies can mingle and linger,

like the water, on the shore,

on the bank, wrapped in the embrace of

love language and the gentle swirling

of understanding.

Clad only in…

… I need a nibble on this line.

 

 

 

 

 


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