Sunday, February 15, 2015

Valentine's nonsense

Jupiter is rising at dusk and the Evening Star is Venus
and I surely do believe in fate.
But it’s not the stars and planets that guide my two fate.
Fools and poets can use and misuse
and misspeak and misspoke
more words more ways than anyone can –
and I sometimes have been both and often not either -
but my fate take me places where
eyeses sit on bar stools and heads
turn for ‘of’ and other preposterous prepositions.
Egg cremes don’t have eggs
and smiles are not ‘of’ that only acks
a capital ‘L’ and belongs to another synomym of of.
But miles with an ‘s’ will come far closer than many definitions
I know of of - and I only know what I see and saw in past tense.

Look, a club sandwich is cut into four
quarters, I’ve counted them at least five times,
and this is all I really know:
My two fate led me to Aimee’s door
and I sat on my eyes at the counter.
And now go right ahead and sing it, Mr. Torme:
I’ll be home by Valentine’s,
you can count on that (or nothing).
So I thank you for standing in my way
and doing the things that you do -
and I don’t mean the hash browns
and the bacon and egg cremes don’t even have crème.
My fate always take me, except when they don’t,
to places where empty propositions still taste sweeter
than my words.
And if I make nonsense, it’s because that is my destiny,
or maybe I have nothing better to do
than to stop, look and listen before crossing the train tracks
and to watch found time ticking softly before me.
And  I ook for of in miles and nooks ot my own
and sometimes yours.

I don’t drink words
and I don’t love egg cremes -
at least not every minute of every day.
A man’s got to sleep and let his fate
take him for a smile or two in the afternoon.
But let me tell you, not many men I know
watch the stars cross love’s ‘Ts’ as carefully as I do,
and a barsita’s eye’s can shine considerably
more brightly than Venus.
I’ve looked.

These are only words, my loves
are somewhere else, I look for them out in
and inside out out in the universe and let my fate take me
one step at a time to where I might pause.
Trust me, my fate will have surely carried me half-way home
by Valentine’s Day. And nonsense will carry me
no further than a lovely smile or two
breaking up into forgotten laughter.
And a currant iced tea quenches ways
better with your warmed  ice looking my way
and my fate resting under my legs.

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