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Sweetness and Light
Of Romance
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Such Sweetness it Sings

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The Garlic Clove

It takes 3 cloves of garlic to make my now
famous spaghetti.  I peeled it absently
as I thought of the last time I made it
for a man.

1 Clove disrobed, dully gleaming, on the heavy
wooden cutting board.  I held it without noticing.
Its weight was nothing in my palm.  The garlic warmed
quickly; its smooth body hot and innocent
as I and I pressed it lightly against
my mouth

to see what that smoothness might feel like.
I was surprised to find it near perfectly like that velvety-hot
skin sensation I could never, ever compare…
The years-ago feel
of him rubbed against my hungry lips.

And though it was him I thought of I couldn’t help
but wonder if one day, when the time is also ripe, I
will feel this new man against my lips and
compare him to a flesh-warmed clove
of garlic.

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With Tommy at the Moberly Drive-In

It was a cool night for July.
The inky air of darkness shimmered with
So many sequined stars and the satellites of
Telephone and media waves circled overhead as if they
Were invading.  It was Tommy’s truck; a big blue monster
With a steer horn hood ornament and a ribbed, not
For my pleasure, prefabricated bed.

Kids played on the playground in front of a big, old screen.
Watched over by parents and lovers alike as I worried about
The hard ridges digging cruelly into my naked shorted thighs.

Busying myself in his eyes, blue like the ocean at Navarre Beach in
The panhandle, I smiled at his teasing words and then forgot them.
One hand lazily fluttering up his wrist, his hair a silky honeysuckle
Thatch, to trace the indigo paths of his veins.

Then the movie started.  Music pouring from the open cab back
Window and from the radios all around us.  I remembered a time when
The sound came crackling from strange metal speaker boxes we had to
Hang on the window.  It was a cartoon; fuzzy from an amateur focus and
I didn’t watch it all the same.

I watched his face.  His lashes Longley whispering in blinks and the smooth
Expanse of neck with its vulnerable throb I love.  I would have kissed that
tiny jumping point  until I lost myself if I still were young and reckless.

I hadn’t been to a drive-in in years and it was his first time.  The sights, the sounds. The crickets giving an extra kick to the background music and crumpled cola cups And candy wrappers lending us a romantic tone from my mother’s innocent youth.

I don’t remember any of it though, except as borrowed from the grainy hope chest
Of my childhood… that time when I was a watched child on a rusty swing-set in
The dark.

What I remember is that the air seemed to be too heavy; keep us too far apart. That His hands have calluses around the edges but feel like silk on the inside.  That his Breath was sweet in my hair and the burn of his hands on my leg was competing with The bite of those damn ridges which have given me the most of what I’ve carried from That blissful drive-in night.

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Memories
I still remember him.
The silky strength of his chest.
The fragile beauty of his lips.
The craggy planes of his hands.
The deep emptiness of his caress.
The love I felt...

Perhaps imagined.
The warmth of him.
Softly sleeping beside me.
So real he was
And with him
I was.
 
I remember his unbridled joy
And anger.
His surprising lucidity
At odd moments.
His secret paranoia
And loud individualism.

The way he missed subtlety...
And grasped tightly the surface.
So unlike me... So much
As to be so much alike.
I remember him now...
Fondly.

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The Danger of Beautiful Boys
 
Today I wished god would grant me blindness.
An ironic wish since this has always been my greatest fear.
But as I considered the danger you pose to me
And accessed how vulnerable I am to your treasures
I wished I were not so led by my appetite for the beautiful.
 
For what would I do with a boy like you?
With a boy who could enslave me with a smile
And make me forget a thousand promises I once made to myself
A boy who holds such assurance of pleasure…
equaled only by the guarantee of terrible pain.
 
You would break my heart if I gave it to you.
In your sweetness you would try hard to resist but…
No one can endure the responsibility of pedestals and divinity.
And I am not sure I would survive such heartbreak…
So brittle my life has made me.

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Him
 
Stolen moments.
So much like a dream.
Your eyes caressed my soul
and I knew you from a thousand lives.
I loved you in each one.
 
You held me.
I couldnt break from your sweet gaze.
A honeyed trap of silk and flowers.
You held me as I never believed I could be held
And I felt you,
Forever after....
 
The memory of your eyes making my heart hum.
A burning buzz of tenderness.
So much passion, yet only purity.
The thought of you,
All spiritual in my mind.
A union of unimagined perfection.
I never believed in fate...
 
before.

There is no remedy for love but to love more.

- Thoreau -