By Request

time being not of the essence
I work my way through work,
largely thinking of last night
replaying each scene

do you do that?

the initial meeting -- full of fright and delight
a handshake, a shock
lips, glossed and luminous
eyes, big and bright
I was immediately in.

Awkward, yes, but there
leading you down the sidewalk
buying beverages and sitting in the shade
starting the talking

Slightly afraid to look directly into your eyes
an intense woman stared back
and smiled
with every cell

Talking
talking people talking concepts
telling stories
Was I talking too much?
I left worrying

You took notes:
words you hadn't heard
websites, names
You insisted I correct you
when your English was too English
and I was delighted
for so many reasons

You talked about "working on the bench"
and spending all your time in the lab.
I imagine ueber-focused you in a long white coat
unaware of an untied shoe or a half-eaten lunch

We talked translation and knowing
And perspective
When I stopped talking you didn't squirm

We dined and talked and laughed
We walked and talked less and touched
palm to palm, fingers entwined then not
I became both more comfortable and
more insecure.

What next? What next?
No idea but I'm flying now.

Blisters bubbled on my foot.
I drove you home, worried about my driving
and giving you whiplash with a gear shift.

You insisted on icing my blisters
and I let you touch my funky feet
embarrassed about untrimmed nails.

I remember: playing your electronic drums
and asking you to play.
I remember standing behind you and you leaning back into me.
The touch of you feeling like a memory
The top of your head and your hair
coarse under my lips.

Am I going too fast? Too wild?
Too close too soon?
Maybe not enough!
The options are endless
and I ask for information:
what are you thinking?

a brief tour of the house and then I'm leaving
Too sudden?  My timing is off and my heart is racing.
I'm awkward in my head but barreling through.
Porch. Front door cracked open.
Your face, luminous
and I don't think I stopped at all to think before
pressing my lips to yours

Sweet softness with response
Kiss and then a deep breath
that may have been the world moving under you
More, I want, and so I take
You kiss back, with passion and reservation

You shut the door and I walk to my car,
always wanting more, but I feel you hold back
"What?" I ask.
"I don't really know the neighborhood."
I'm boorish, I realize, and pushy, frisky and grabby.

Yes, I would have loved to go back inside.  Take back my
departing phrases and take off my hat.

should've?
I'm a greedy little bugger and maybe too much
would have loved to
make you stay up too late

Actively Forget

(this is an old one, written in the fall of 2011)

Yes.
Specifically to actively forget, to move on, to keep going, just like I said I was. I never stopped.
Don't do it, friends said. You'll get attached.
Of course I'll get attached. I loves me some attachment, I do.
Metered, please. Controlled, but oh! Not that much.

Shopping for soulmates never works. I would that I could be silent with someone. It occurs to be this should be a prerequisite and perhaps an addition to my various online dating profiles. "Must be able to be still and watch." That's not it, either.

The stop-start of conversation is different with different people. And indeed different at different times. So sweet when it seems to flow naturally, mutually.

Ah mutuality! Where have you been? Why do you live so far away?

No, nothing is perfect. Cracks and fissures emerge no matter how solid. I believe that. Which is why I relish in being able to watch myself, alone.

I try to find LONG stretches of time.
Hang on long moments.
Always alone.

There's something to that. This thing.
Alone.

But then there's this compelling thing about some people. What is that? What is that bell that gets rung in my head. It happens immediately, for the most part. Seriously. I know in five minutes if I'm going to fall for this one. Less. Two.

What is that?

Programming, let's say. And that's true for sure. Trying to resolve a relationship of the past. Trying to work past the point where we wondered "why can't I make this work?" And I wonder why. And how I can know so quickly. But I do, of this I am sure.

Oh that bell, that sweet sweet bell. I don't hear it but I feel the vibration go all through my body. And then I can't help but stare. Talk. Open up. There you go. Were you looking for my heart? Right here, hon.

Yeah, I know. Trying to win the attention of someone, that's my Achilles heel. I am relentlessly the six year old, doing a cannonball into the pool, picking out a tune on the piano, singing a Helen Reddy song by the slide tucked into the wading pool. It's good, I promise, and I mean earnestly. It's the best I've got and all I have and it's for you.

(brakes screech)

Right well, it used to go that far. Now I am relentlessly paranoid and guarded. Except for those internal gong moments, and then all bets are off. Pavlov's motherfucking bell, man.

Somehow I know that the initial attention is temporary, and I decide somewhere that I will prove myself, once and for all.

Yup.

Secret unlocked. Sim sala bim!

Now, out! All the madness and sadness and what the fuck are you CRYING about now? Huh? What you need, sister, is a good dose of Actively Forget. You need to open your eyes and look around. Never mind that Gong Sister you spied tonight. Keep it moving. Yes yesyes.

Come on. To bed. Your ass has to be up in the morning.