On Beauty [& being right.]

Another night in loneliness, another
quiet wait

for yet another late late date , well Mr.
Rest,

you know you’d best
come to understand;

I am tinningly tired
of being undesired, I am [big, bold] : bored

with being ignored, & how it’s damn right time

for a trip to the fairyland.

Another night in solitude, there’s not
even any stars

to tell me tales of chewed off bones,
or scars written in cobblestones,

not even the newest of
the many moons

to put me in that
poppling ‘post afternoons in the shades
of the blooming magnolias’ mood.

You & I are a hundred new nights
from picking up right
where we should’ve just continued

with what we did truer
than any duet ever have;

glued rights over wrongs, drew lies in the
sand, sang blankets to warm
the broken hearted, screwed danger
apart

& wrote songs in the hands of strangers;

babe, in just a hundred nights or less
when my longitude answers to a whole new address

& we once again breath at the same altitude

let’s devote spring oh’7
to exploring everything

between the
backdoors of hell

& the front doors of heaven;

learn to spell ‘delude’

by letters we can find
in what we once valued

with sips of post-it-scribbled truth
tattooed to hips

& fingertips -
let’s watch our minds grow

to their full amplitude.