(Always wanted blond, James…) and I stare
(the spaces in between the then and now
are vacated places so, only you and I go there)
in those ice blue, “licensed to kill” eyes that know
(ages come and gone and ways bent beyond
recognition) it dawns on me once again
that you had passed me by without a sound
(leaning in to embrace) I long for when
you might be close (the howling of a hound)
disturbing as the thought might be (I need)
of blood red kisses left (that agent aged)
in tender nights the fires of passion feed
(memories not shared in virtual plays unstaged)
would you still find, or seek a broken reed?
I wait (to end the cold war we had not waged). |