Sunday, February 14, 2010


(morning noon night)

-------------------------------for Susan

photo © bob arnold


I won't get no tattoo

wear no earring

put big holes in the lobes of my enlightenment


I'm still dressing in

slim jeans, blue work shirt, boots

just like I have for 6 decades no

no reason to change

cheap living

no tattoo either on my love

no spread tattoo just

below her waist like I

see regular office worker

young woman has when she

drops papers at the post office

and bends to retrieve

the same tattoo rising

out of her skirt

the same tattoo her husband

or boyfriend likes on porno sites

looks strange peeking out of

professional dress

get off my back about your dull

slacker and no intimacy ways of

not loving

give me love and buckets of it

kiss me right in public

hold my hand

have the erotic be neurotic

right in the every day



no posing, no airs

just the blue skies and eyes with no lies


There is the absolute way

Of doing it, and we have done it

Many times and again

How I will come to you

How you will meet me

The early morning sun

Perfect on the bed and the

Stripes in the Mexican blanket

Like blood, the sea, yellow iris petals

And it is a silly lovers ritual of ours

I hug you and you hug me and step onto

My boots and I walk you and me around the

Sunlit room, the way of patchouli in your hair

And your face smooth against my lips

Like the inside of your hands


Between Ives and Messiean you move and I move with you.

In one more stupid mall with cheap price CDs and three

hundred Sunday shoppers all with the same behavioral instincts,

what’s to look at? The ceiling is more curious, all suspended

with some panels complete, some open straight up to the no man’s

land of steel trusses and cheapness. I know when it rains it

rains in the book section, and wouldn’t you know? A leak in

the roof still to be found. Before we leave with our fix of

CDs Carson wants to take me back into the book section to show

me where he sits each time we come right in front of a rack

of comic books and he often brings real books to this chair.

Now I know where to find him. I remind him this is the best

way to use this place — read for hours on a rainy day respectful

of the merchandise but don’t buy a thing. How I move with you

is standing still, not even thinking of much; will it be a CD

Ives or Messiean juggling prices, and in green cotton dress

between racks you hesitate in its alphabetical organization,

tight waist and hips curve, a freshly and very fuckable look

between us.