To Catch A Fly

 

To Catch A Fly

Almost caught you today.

 

I was resolute like Sysiphus with his

boulder-heavy burden, unable to keep him (and his lifetime

of repetitive bliss) to move on-ward;

determined

to catch you - bone and flesh in hand,

dirtying our sometimes-spoken fidelity

     those times you swore with puppy-round eyes

     you're changed (when everynight you wish

to be a dollar again, for some other machine

splitting up your value to something

much smaller : two quarters, four dimes, & two nickles)

and the sac...

 

You are different in bed, when you don't

come falling asleep in my mouth,

     just another of those

noticeable clues that real boyfriends pay

attention to -- like a project of sorts,

as if I were "Clueless" and your were Britney

Murphy, made-over

for appearances' sake, yet

still retains the unfiltered accents...

 

I find it odd that the new Adam friends I make,

eventually / end-up / playing

with us -- twisted shoot & ladder;

     party favors like confetti tossed

     so non-chalantly in their reach,

          rubbing our sticks to make rapid fire then

          / end-up / with heavy breathing - cream / shower

for a midnight cap, hug-hug--kiss-kiss

"Until next time kid..."

but they next to never return my messages, telephonic

Ether-net, not even the briefest of texts...

   (I think they don't want to return it to me, even if

    or when the postman rings twice, the message remains).

 

I find it odd you get excited / giddy

like a virgin on a nymphomaniac's carribean

cruise -- whenever the boy comes around,

     conversations with a perma-grin, eyes locked with

     secret decoder stares;

you're never this obvious with me...

 

I do not know if it's just insecurity,

or if my spidey-sense is tingling, but I sling webs

out into the world

     which is far from my mother's old-fashioned absolutes

           this place that is new (but grew up here) to me

           offers no hand-hold or ledge

to catch me.

I climb walls of suspicion and don't adhere

to the surfaces -- as progress is made, water

sprout is flooded by true to form

Rain...

 

I swing with you, place to place, night to light / but no pleasure

is found (inside the crevices)

     only the ground -- still, being alone

     with just us

two comic heroes with "fabulous" powers

to create bliss on skin

and fatigue with lollipop skills,

          yet cannot escape the box they are drawn within...

Slinging webs out into the world,

     praying to catch a moment's fulfillment, a small meal;

and hoping not to catch you

fly over me,

watching me with 300 insect goggles --magnifying in/sight...

 

Almost wanted to catch you today.

 

Glad I was wrong, wishing i am - everyday

from now on...

 

Reviews

[Rain]

One of those writes I would like to know the writers intent, Generally ir doesn't matter. I read, and if after I read.. I "Feel" something. I like it. I thought this was a good piece. Rain..