Initial Meeting (7/27/2020). -M.Weisgerber

Oh gods am I going to catalog every inch & twitch & turn of her?  I know
the way it was meant to be, I, not wanting to be in this hot place, her a bit
bored with intonation, not realizing that she’s going to claim a heart, I,
 
carrying a dreadful secret, so much pain & shame & hate of the hard days
moving the very way a brain could bake or shake, longing for cold surf, I
thinking she’d just be another number, her not realizing I was hers to take
 
down, then I came to love her most, the way were in time, the simple way
she hated and loved me to the point of choking strange shapes out of me,
my throat down upon the lane that those 50’s people wandered?  Streets,
 
her long drive, a strange sub where streetlights burned so very bright
against the dark before I entered, green grass against silence passing – it
is a swamp though which a heart could yet not drive it.  Out?  No, soon.
 
Oh lord, I think it is true, & in the first glance I had, you so tall, you so
self-assured & everything in between, reminding me of love as I lost my
self upon the heat, the scent, the very way glanced beside August fire,
 
cooking its way fast through the last of summer days, in a land I didn’t
want to be with a girl I didn’t then or yet as know didn’t want to open
or unfold, mostly from fear, mostly from the open heart getting shot again
 
she hoping to take me for a change, care for anyways – for a little while?
Didn’t know I needed to claim her too, didn’t know shame would not be
coming with self perseverance, or yelling, or passing or failing all, no.
 
Oh pain, oh lingering doubt red amongst the folds, a probability aligned
with the stars, the very moon, the high noon was gone as soon as I
learned to disagree; fickle then, heart so bold.  Don’t have to glance back
 
at the starcharts to find a match, somehow knowing the moon was full,
the very way she sat with long boot out tapping I assumed I made mistake
she’d fill me in as I would her soon enough in time, this lie, almost free..
 
“You can’t love her” they say, but on that Dante would disagree,
the pen shivering upon my knee, the tastes lingering on the lower lip the
quavering of a solid breast breaking upon the way we made up the rest.
 
Yes, we are ghosts within, woke upon the machine, yet
Somehow its all beginning to make slow perfect sense now, it’s
patterns form, the day give way to the temporary shelving disbelieving.
 
 
 
Sure, my first wrong thought was how to get you hot to bed, yes
My first impure passions gave way to need, tears, yes, all the subtle
Simple ways I came to love you weren’t worked out till the very end, yet
 
you claimed me, shamed me, unwound me thread by thread so that I,
simple fool that I came into this world as was, ready now for fighting, be
at call n beck for the way you bend your knees, back needing cracked,
 
Pop of jaw and flex before you held me, it was swell that we played days
On days of NEW, yet I never saw you sew!  Never once baked bread, no
didn’t meander boardwalks nor hold hands, separate ways drifting close,
 
her fast lips caught amongst the balm, the way she drank & cried fast of
her lost dad, & I then found my armor gone; I found my heart shift & I
somehow knew then that a day, a year, a lifetime would never be enough.
 
Could you see the bright sun on the wood of the places I used to play?
As a boy how much they meant, how I wanted you there, to stay, do you
know what it is to fall babe, new contagion on the land as the sun sets?
 
Oh God, these words like meeting your face are likely just a curse
to call at the many lovers that follow such strange paths, out onto the
Land mary countryside or what remains by the time I am done, for
 
I burn and yearn and want all that grass in all the countrysides that have
ever been to molt to char to turn the way your subtle look made ash of
piles so out of me, that log in fire trying to call out, forward, prepare, yet
 
margarita before the beer, hard to believe its going to be at least a year
before I miss the way we loved, love the way we kissed, missed you more
than a heart should could bare before it fractures, swollen so, chinks lil.
 
Thirty-three, striking out like Jesus does upon this strange merry land
chatting up stranger words, odd lyrics, that are beginning to be beautiful
somehow before the sun sets, before rain cools chiminea burning, all is
 
heat here, the sweat it is pouring so hard so fast so whenever you are near
Down.  All fall
Down.
 
I came to a fire beside a shore, a cantina upon the bend to claim her, but
in the end it was me and we and all these foolish words that only time can
mend then matter, & the way we once danced upon hard surf.  All is hard
 
here
and in time it all falls
drown.