. The Poet's Beat .

. The Poet's Beat .
"A working class citizen is apt to see this country for what it's worth... A miasma of interlocking variations on differing demographics and geographies unlike any other inhabited space in the world. The American Dream. The rolling footloose hills and the upstanding Apache badlands where criminals cut bread with priests and the children of Hollywood. I am no different. Yet I am still brazen enough to think that the world is a playground built by the rugged hands of a hard-working man in order that my fantasies be materialized." -- P.P. Vonnersdale

Saturday, March 24, 2012

Austin Home Tour

A couple of misfits having fun in other people's high end houses...


We traipse through crowded halls
     of the homes of modern architecture,
her painted toes on the tile,
standing in elegant and empty shower stalls,
jasmine and coral blue,
fingerprints on the polished metal of the dials,
tempting the rain water faucet above,
hidden in the skylight,
checking to see if the neighbors
     could see her breasts if we dared,
that easy tone of how we’ve always been
     still evident between us,
even after these years,

I lift my hand to knock but she is at the door,

a deadbolt clicks inside,
the latch is withdrawn,
for all my fear,
my premonitions and illusions,
sometimes beginning a new chapter is as
     easy as turning a page,
she is there,
years mean nothing,
and are like days,
like minutes,
reaffirming my belief in the power of two souls connected,

High dollar wine in a thief’s hands,

local beer honey gold,
and tiny chocolates,
our words soup,
our lips adamant,
we fall easily into conversation,
making up for lost time,
although nothing seems to have been lost at all,
she holds her finger under the lamp,
but the thorn is immovable,
a foreign body in her skin,
a visiting stranger,
my concealed delight to hold her icy digits and fight the
     thorn beside her,
as if I care anything about that thorn,
only her hand in mine,

We carry on,

and on,
and on,
like padded footsteps through these eco-friendly homes,
we bare a little more of our hearts,
exploring the oddly open corridors of this friendship,
a tight-rope at times,
a broad avenue,
always wandering,
always wonder,
until I sink the perfect free-throw and
     win her love all over again.

02.10


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