Thank you
though you broke my heart into pieces
that never quite went back together the same way again,
Thank you.
You said I knew you better than anyone. I floated on those words
hopeful they meant forever.
You knew and every word was true.
But knowing didn’t mean staying.
Knowing meant facing painful truths
Knowing didn’t erase you,
it released me.
Thank you.
When I think of you,
Longing rises in me like weeping.
This must be love
The university library stacks are wall to wall
floor to ceiling
so much knowledge between the covers
so much learning hard won
no time
to ever try to read it all.
I want bongos for my birthday
beat beat beat
Oh I want them in the worst way
beat beat beat
Listen to the poets
go at the words
Have you heard their thoughts curled
swirled
unfurled
about their heads?
Those poets glow, man
beat beat beat
I wanna go find some bongos, man
Find the beat
fire the heat
be complete with the time, the rhyme,
Oh so sublime
beat beat beat
Bongos, man.
Yeah.
.
.
(My birthday was this week. I did NOT get bongos. Boo hoo.)
(Or a beret or tight black pants, though that’s probably for the best).
It’s the hat
that first catches their attention.
Who wears hats these days,
but cowboys and teen punks?
and the punks have it backwards.
Her round little hat hasn’t enough brim
to keep off much sun,
but it has enough character to keep off
the bores and the introverts,
and that’s enough.
She doesn’t seem to notice them
drawing into the walls as she goes by,
their fear is palpable, but she is insensible.
It’s not outwardly a power hat, in fact, it’s kind of cute,
but no one wears hats these days who doesn’t wear
a confidence that scares off
weaker souls.
Duty bound
following obligations
social necessities
tolerant smiles in public
irritated scowls at home
Where is he going with that?
Oh you, Screw,
exiting from bone
seeking a new home
pushing through my skin
in increasing agonies of effort.
As we part ways, may I state
that while I appreciate you having held me together
during that stint of cold weather,
it’d be great if you stay in place until
the surgeon takes you away!
(This ankle pain rankles me).
.
(I only wish this one was figurative, rather than literal!)
In the heat
her fingers sizzle from inside out
raising an ocean on her forehead
rivers racing down her back,
internal pressure steam driven engine
hissing irritably
summer outside
summer inside
I didn’t hear you
and you slipped past
your whispers only faint murmurs on the wind
less than the burbling susurrus of the river.
I heard shrieks and giggles,
running feet and splashing laughter;
I didn’t hear you.
Shawn L. Bird 