Sunday, March 16, 2014

i still lie (he thought)

i still lie (he thought)

And in my hotel room, I'm wondering
If you read that story too?
And if we both might
Be having the same imaginary conversation
“Cologne,” Ben Folds

i still lie imagining

he thought when he woke
on a tuesday morning

unable to recall the difference between apparently and clementine
although he felt certain they were entirely separate things

and where ever words no longer connected with meanings
he could see and even feel as if recollections were experiences

his thumb sliding and pressing
into the curve of her palm
and then with his finger squeezing
the soft pad below her thumb

these conversations wordless as a man trapped in forgetting
that echo like memories projected into an endless cavern

how could a jet plane that large disappear?

[like the meanings of words]

he wanted to ask her
as they held hands quietly

but when he turned her way
she was already gone

and that meaning he knew
with the solidness of bone

it was golden and too thick to be water
but he thought he heard her whisper honey

in that wordless othersphere of memory
where meaningless meant meaningful

apparently and just ever so briefly
he was happy as a clementine

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