Not This

Not This

what is it 
that preys upon us
without naming us

that leaves us
spectators to our 
own demolition

as long as we don’t 
speak of it
we can’t describe it

we can plead
a certain 
ignorance

to whomever

whatever 

comes next

Charades

I’ve done my part

in keeping up this charade

when it was our turn

I kept on the party face

as the night went by 

in a dylanesque parade

I stayed true  

to our agreement

tried the conversation 

and failed 

looks suggested 

something else in the air 

now I gotta say 

it’s getting late

time to make a move

or we’ll get sucked in 

here comes our hostess

dressed in the moment 

grab your shoes 

I'll get the pie dish

in the distance lights are flashing 

is it  fireworks or explosions

gunshots or dance beats

screams or orgasms 

his secret word

his secret word

he couldn’t keep his word

it flew around like a bird

promises, money, and friends

were to him beating wings

and I really liked this guy 

but he wasn’t a child I couldn’t try 

to convince him to act 

with the decency

he expected of me

so I hope one day he will learn 

but I really don’t have the time 

to do more than write this poem

as the world’s demands are endless

The wait

Thursdays