A poem for stormy weather.
Your philosophies change as quickly as the adolescent sky
Every last ethic and choice hyper analyzed as a verdict on life
And I found your indiscriminate indecisions intriguing at first
Waiting to jump into ideas with new white tennis shoes like mud puddles
Hoping to grab your hand on some worldly adventure
All grown up and nowhere to go
Until the dream has ended with little memory of what was before I lay me down to sleep
I thought they would carve an icon of us
Just to make us immortal in the morning downpours
Right after the words of the poets crumbled into the sea
Like some trite ending jumping in with the mermaids
And when the men stumbled back from the progress of the times
They would ask how on earth we ever made it past all the rock walls
Looking into each others eyes without blinking
That was how it was supposed to be
And when that adolescent sky fell down on us
I turned over to nurse your wounds and I wondered
What it was that made me think you were stronger than Sampson and twice as wise
And what was it that twisted my sheets up with my own stomach and blood
And made me forget that the sun could’ve burned up a week ago but nobody noticed yet
My hands calloused and my white legs peeking out of a pink silk skirt
Aged hardness, going stale while waiting for my first kiss
Ship’s captain, crew, and vision all at once while you go stare at your navel
Do a few more yoga poses, it’ll be good for the relationship
As I man this childish weather
My lord, my eastern lord, who was to show me the world and offer arms from that sky
The time I dared to look into the moon in search for our faces
Was the day you left, unapologetically
Vanishing from the tempest like a ghost ship in the desert fog
And I am alone sitting on top of a bridge staring at the night sky
Watching it change, once again accepting
That I didn’t know there were so many shades of blue
30 Jan, 2009