To Break The Chill of Loneliness

Chilly Morning

To break the chill of loneliness
She wrapped herself extrinsically
In social scenes of mild duress
And dates of rankest gaucherie –

‘To seek always’ – courageous stuff —
To settle is an abjectness:
What warmth she found was not enough
To break the chill
Of loneliness

A Dating Memory – Carnival

So up we went
To a sky that nearly swallowed us –
A bass line could be heard across
The vast expanse of people –
Smells of sugar and salt and butter and
A bit of your perfume
I still can smell —

Two holding hands and feeling high
In several different ways –
We laughed to feel the wind and all
The myriad sensations of the evening –
Clad in our respect for dating, and
Our devotion to the cause of discovering
Just how high and how far and how fast
We could go

At fourteen

And not really on a date, but only sort of

Dating is a funny thing…

Dating is a funny thing,
But wonderful when it goes right:
Together through Parisian streets,
Into oncoming night —

It takes connection. True, it does,
Which is as sweet as it is rare,
Then it won’t matter where you are,
Just really being

There

Summer Night On The River

subtle brush of random breeze,

cicadas and choir frogs:

nowhere heard a traffic hum,

stars peek through the clouds

 

at the two in their unease,

sedative for kindling logs;

oh the passions of the numb,

torn from out

of shrouds

The Laughter of the Damaged

She tells me that
She loves spin class,
Corona,
All the Marleys
(Bob, Ziggy, Jacob)
As we walk down by
The riverside
Towards twilight.

She is young,
But not so carefree
As she’d have me believe:
The setting sun dances
Off her red hair,
And she laughs often
In the manner of someone
Who used to do it a lot
But has kind of forgotten how.

And it feels like
An audition,
Or maybe an interview,
Instead of a date.
I ask her if she has siblings,
And it turns out she has four,
All sisters.

After a minute,
She turns to me
With a smile and says

Thank you for dinner.
I haven’t been on a date
In a long time.
But you’re nice,
And it’s pretty out here.

She’s lovely, really,
And my heart goes out to her
For something she’s not saying.
So I say

“I’ve enjoyed this.
I really like you.
It feels, though, like
You are sad for some reason.”

It’s that obvious, huh?

“Kinda”

I don’t want you to think
I don’t appreciate —

“I won’t think that.
I want to know what’s really going on”

And then
A song of a young woman’s love,
Like a melody
Transforming the listener
Even if it left the actual beloved unmoved.

“So how long has it been since?”

Nine months.
People keep telling me to date,
And you asked, so
I said yes.

It was my turn to chuckle:
“Even my dates
Aren’t really about me.
Well, I did ask.
And what’s real is real.”

I’m sorry

“It’s okay. Seriously.”

We walked along
Talking about a funny movie
We both loved.

The sun went down,
And we talked in the car for a few minutes,
Laughing a little more.

Then, I drove her home

in soul of search mates

 


belonging.

the sad is search and
difficult with all of its
dramatics to turn oneself into a
prize it’s moral

acrobatics we love because
we love to love to need to feel
inside but all that ever was
and is is made of clove and

pride we string along our
platitudes we soon evince our
longing but souls are made of fragile
stuff and yearning for