|
The Loveless Lack |
Bleed your lips
with eyebrow
tweezers.
All your witticism,
all this cleverness
is not enough,
is not enough.
Soap opera poses
of a proud
aquiline nose
blend
into a chrome
hubcap.
Can't mix a soldier
with a worker
or a breeder,
can't be done,
can't be done.
I sit on the side
of my bed
contemplating
my carpet
of strewn dirty
laundry
and deflated shoes,
my homicidal harem.
Fantasize about thick
ankles and falafels.
My temper will
ultimately
autopsy me.
Feel the vibrations
between your shoulder
blades.
The constriction
inside
your left thigh
throbs
when you press
four
inside the elevator.
Smile and swallow
the nausea
of the anisette
monkey.
A black thong
melted
down the back
of a swivel chair
is the ignored
premonition.
Drivers on the midnight
highway
feel safe inside
their accordion cars.
Squint at the Van Gogh streetlights,
I am nothing;
a streak
in the chiaroscuro
cityscape,
a glimpse uncaught
in the vision
of the lack of love,
forgotten
in the loveless
lack.
copyright 2004
Angel
Perales |
