Been dreaming the whole night
Three of them it’s been (nights)
Since taking that nap’s yellow road
Untouristed and unhurried
Amongst les villes ordinaire
Between Versailles and Mont St. Michel
But those dreams a-mines keep unpausing
Even after the nocturnal calling of tugging pees,
Relentless autumn-chill-induced, laboring, ones
Those unnerving jabbed urgings interrupting my fluff and blood w
-ith chopping frequency, like a bore’s jokes snapping a cello’s bow
Snapping, just as the notes are cutting up the well hole
As they circle up archaic stones
In the humming wood’s kept caress
Violining up round and down
From the well’s deep watering bones
Despite the snap, the snaps, these rěves returned
Black and tan pastures
Spotted dogs, lichen fences of disordered grey
Lips…alive and in color
Dreams, scented by chateau hedges 1959 years from view
Tricking .trickly .trickles in the heather yearn
For my awakening heart to most gaily pursue
Oui, cette tight-shouldered soul, moi
Stiff state of me thee girls’ eyes joy to recognize, oh
They can help tightboy, so they stroke me clothed,
Because their vocation permits handling (an arm, chest, back) or…
Parce que le folke magique allows… and how!…their hands, oft
uncalled for, but it’s an unforced entitlement: Et moi unprotesting
Their eyelash act seduced by my layers cashmered
Their lifting release, then my a-loosening comes ringless heard
Their finger a-sampling with a bare-squeeze, so dear
Their flat palm pets, as-if-she-were-cold shivers
Instant naked intimacy, from an office chair
Dropping pleasantly into me (not nude from nowhere)
A happiness, a curse, few boys get to mystery with
Since they, not me, in high school masturbated
(come to find out my love come down was always tingling up)
My cursed slowboy dance: flooded in a deliciously wound fever
Unfulfilled, unrequited; but still: a bzzzz feeling, a constant definer,
A TRUTH realized…five decade later (never too late to unwind)
Steamed summer air at the edge of orgasm
Gazing orchid eyes locked in glowsian explosion
With classmate girls whose tom-boy too ruled
Over oil-painted playmates, cheerleading the school
Though their darkened eyes too, sensed me in everyday air
Knew my cashmere wall was so close to both theirs
So we loved (still do) in a sensual life of unconscious touches
Young life, old life, of unregulated gushes
We were all raging then, I just didn’t know
I liked playing guns, not shooting them yo
Except popping jumpers and throwing elbows
Except kicking shins and smashing aces at love
So them barren flirtations, our slim hearts in one beating
Mine came in music, burned passed, twas my heating
Sonny’s bounding bop of a horn, and every one of Billie’s songs
Mick lip standing in hip shadows, Clarence Carter deep voice long
All of Otis, bible of Aretha, hit that foot my soul Godfather
Albert king stinging strings, Thelonious my secret sharing brother
On our ballers’ bus ride home, after an OT win Millers Falls,
Monahan and Ducky are their best bench-warmed rawky selves
Sitting on spring cold vinyl, advising me so devil graphically
Techniques for stroking the so-fine of my unfortouchable Betsey,
Passing the chilly of Christmas-lit homes, only my neck is still wet
Ducky’d sat pulling splinters, twas my D made the Millers sweat
The whole school knew
She danced dazzling heir above
Air of bliss, my Betsey love
Her life, not arrogant
Just restless, just hers
Ah to see her each day, with her thrill-seeking verve
Been dreaming, (and they staying), must go hold my Iris Dement
Cause my heart’s about to die, in this Our Town lament
Maybe I’ll find her Mom sniffing drainpipes, being Flora Mae true
On their music path to a Higher Ground, singing our dreaming blue
Twelve stanzas ago I began with me teasing,
Song stories of suddenly stubborn dreaming,
Did Reader get shorted on towns extraordinary sweet scenes?
Least I spared you dry fake=danced all-the-leaves-of-brown dreams.
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Valentines Day 2017