Freaky Eyes

the last time we talked was the first time we didn’t

speaking, i daren’t speak.
that’s just about the gist of that.
each word taut, non sequitur.
my lukewarm unrelenting.

dead man walks on down
dead-end street, his sentence
preempts mine. judgment day, murder
of crows, thirteen feet to go

before we maybe, madding.
but soft, outside café effigy
your cigarette ash arcs artlessly.
360º raw, i touch a nerve

reflexively. & therein lies anemic lie,
as sullen & reassuring as evening’s
uneven shadow stirring. i pose
nude, scratch the naked ambition

chafing you labor long
to self-medicate. your novella’s
dedication warns: “in memory
of the great regret

i never had.” & we do.
we rue everything. we rue
nothing. the grit, the scar, the hush.
the bottom line we, too, seduced.

thus, the twinsurvive. we posture
& we attitude. the soundless
- we now know - amps the lonely.
as it should.

yet listening, i listen hard.
to the sighing of the neon night.
to the shush of the revolving door.
i never heard it going.

(c) j7 2007