Tuesday, February 20, 2007

Time And A Dream

Who could know
all those years ago
that we’d still be friends.
And in touch,
wishing to touch each other
like we did then,
and like we never did then.

Forty going on seventeen,
wondering what it might mean
to be together for a night, a month, decades,
touching hearts and other parts,
reliving youth
with mature understanding and experience.
But when?

We talk and write
well into the night
of what we’d do with time and opportunity.
You and me, we both agree,
would love like there’s no tomorrow.
But time and distance conspire against us;
so for now we’re a dream that doesn’t end.

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

Mere Love

Was it all a dream?
What a soft, sensous loving night!

A cool, moist, misty fog
crept through town.

Your misty eyes looking down
helped me realize
we have such love for each other.
And we express it so well,
our tip-toeing fingertips,
our touching lips;
our hearts touch.
There's such
poetry in your eyes,
your body, your heart.

We didn't make love tonight,
yet we made love all night
sharing words over a drink,
sharing scaring scenes from that movie,
sharing the cool, moist, misty fog,
sharing our warm, moist lips and
loving, luxurious touching,
loving touching that is so much deeper
than a mere touch or
than mere love.

Tuesday, February 13, 2007


Salty air.
Relentless pounding ocean waves,
felt more than heard,
will be seen soon.

A pair of footsteps crunching on the beach
under the full moon
will be the only human sound.
Tires gently singing their song;
more of the old bridge behind now than ahead.
We’re almost there.

Sunday, February 11, 2007


Twenty-five years later,
the Deep South,
still hot, wet.
Some things haven’t changed.
Her eyes are possessed by that
wicked smile from high school
times twenty
years of experience
we shared without each other.

Three hours later,
a hundred handshakes,
hi how-are-ya’s.
Many things remain the same.
Our questions probe each other’s
past, touching then and now;
Zydeco fills the voids
and flowing bubbly undresses lingering emotion.

Twelve midnight,
dance floor empty,
tables clearing.
One thing is still the same.
We’re afraid to touch
certain parts;
the heart
and one uncorked bottle stand between us.
One question remains unanswered.

Thunder and Light

Thunder doesn’t scare me
but I’d rather not be alone
when the lights go out.

They’re flickering now,
just like the lightning.

There’s no doubt
the power will be off soon.
It’s all clouds and rain out,
There’s no moon,
just the light from the lightning
and this old flashlight.

And the sound of the thunder,
that rumbling, tumbling, crackling
sound. I wonder
where you are tonight,
who you’re holding tight
as you franticly search for
your flashlight
till you remember you left it here.