55- Midnite Symphony & The Best of...

artwork @ the DAV

the house
              plays back-up
in creeks & cracks, clock ticks
steady humming
              A/C unit, sighs
out vents
       a faucet
          hiccup drips
window muffled cricket chirrups

all add depth, to the song
of your breathing
        peacefully sleeping

each chest rise stirs
       the air, sending molecules colliding
in thunderous claps

      encore
         encore

as my eyes close,
         enrapt

For my good friend G-man, a little 55 word action-tell a story in 55 words and come join the fun.


Over @ dVerse Poets today, we are winding down our anniversary week. We are looking back and each choosing our favorite poem written for one of the prompts from over the last year. Mine is from back in October. It was a fun piece to write and for me it is really about the desire to communicate and understand expectations.

I actually got a sit down by the pastor for this one because it was picked up by an adult mag and then my name tweeted out---evidently someone saw it...anyway, I thought the whole things kind of ironic. So for its encore performance:

I wish I was a sex phone operator

There are days I wish I was a phone sex operator---

I met one once and that cured me of ever feeling
the need to make that call because she was nothing
like any wet dream fantasy I ever had, so I know
I would qualify---

And when you'd call I'd know you wanted me
or what you wanted me to be and would tell me
in minute detail exactly what that was---

Super-size with fries on the side, some ex-boyfriend
you still think about but only when life at the house
becomes too much, how you wish your husband was
or was when you first met, long lost to too much
Monday Night Football beer---

"It's a gas tank for a love machine, baby!"

A-her, A-her, he laughs like Gomer Pyle, or perhaps
it's your daddy you want, to read a bedtime story,
a guy on the bus, your boss or some stranger whose
name is no longer important---

Maybe you just need someone to remind you once
more you are beautiful, a gardener, bare chested
in rubber boots with a long nosed water can to damp
your desert and plant deep the seed of meaning
in the womb mirror you look in each morning---

But don't confuse my motives as altruistic in answering
that phone, I'd pick up and in asking that initial question,
"What is it you want?", because it sometimes seems easier
to tell the anonymous than the intimate, at $4.99 a minute
it's far less than the cost of this silence---

gain understanding and feel like i might finally
stand a chance at delivering, because i'm just a man and

There are days I wish I was a phone sex operator.